Fairy Godmother
by Royalperfection
Summary: A story based in the future around Will/Kate's future children, and a certain big event that happens. It isn't supposed to be realistic, but I hope I can make it imaginable :
1. Chapter 1

My name is Imogen. Well, it's not actually just Imogen, there's a lot more to it, but we'll stick to Imogen for now. Or Imi if you prefer, and if you hate words that are spelt the same backwards and forwards like my best friend used… does, then you can spell it Immy.

I don't really know where to start, so I'll describe my life as it was before someone grabbed it, turned it upside down, shook it violently, kicked it a bit, broke it into tiny pieces and buried the pieces at the bottom of the sea. The only good thing is, if you get buried deep enough, you'll eventually fall out the other side. And you never know, there might just be a fairy godmother there waiting to stick you back together again. Or in my case…

But yes, when I was 15. What was my life like in 2030. It's hard to think back to that life. The life of complaining over a photograph, getting told off over a joke, running **everywhere **with that energy I used to own, the same energy which was used to tease my little brother George mercilessly. He loves it really though. I've always got on well with him, despite the 5 years age difference. Well I did. Suffering is a funny thing, it takes you closer to some but further away from the rest. He didn't know how to cope with me, and, and there's nothing as horrid as seeing you little brother shy away from you. Glance at you from across the hallway like you've turned into some type of monster…

Sorry, I've changed time again. I'm probably confusing you. I'm certainly confusing myself, although it is 4 in the morning . I need to sort it out, get it straight in my head, because blocking it out isn't working, and I don't have long left. I just want this horrible nightmare to end. Finally. Once and for all.

But then it never will, I'll never forget it, ever, I'll just learn to cope with it. And I guess this is my way of doing that tonight. It's already becoming hazy in my mind, a thick mixture of nightmares and pain and self-hatred. If I can set it out clear in my mind then at least that's something.

Right now, I'm just going to go back again. Pretend you haven't read any of this. I'm not one for crossings out, if I bothered to write it, I'm jolly well not going to go back and ruin it.

On the 28th May, 2015, Lady Imogen Diana Elizabeth Grace was born, the second child to the then Duke and Duchess of Cambridge, and subsequently the 4th in line to the British Throne. (That's me by the way, incase you hadn't figured). 'An adorable baby girl, with her father's blue eyes and blonde hair', to quote the press. Unfortunately, the idiots who like to write articles worked out I have the same colourings as my late, paternal grandmother, so now we're practically the same person in their eyes. Every, single, fucking, time I step out the door someone somewhere finds a photo of her and sticks it next to me, and BOOM, they think they're a genius. Don't get me wrong, I think she was an amazing woman, just listening to my dad's stories, just seeing her beautiful face staring out of the picture placed on my bedside table. I'm proud to have her as my grandmother. I never thought I could miss someone I've never met as much as I miss her.

I just want to be my own person for once.

But it's ok though, because I have the most amazing family in the world. And I mean that. I have the most caring and supportive parents ever. I even love my two pain-in –the-arse brothers. George was born 5 years after me, on the same day our great-grandmother died and consequently, the day I became Princess Imogen of Wales. He's a little idiot my brother, and I never fail to remind him of this, although deep down he knows I love him really. But honestly, even at the age of 10 he cared more about his appearance then I did, putting gel in his hair like there was no tomorrow. But we used to get on well, pulling faces at each other across the room at each other during boring speeches, getting told off together about it the next day while Alex would stare at us, a look of utter disgust on his face.

I wasn't at close to Alex(ander) then, my older brother, born 2 and a half years before me on the eve of 2013. But we had our moments, the times when we were united in a common goal- mainly paparazzi deceiving, we did that a lot. Our relationship was always strained, right from when we were little and I was more keen than him at football, more visicous too- kicking him in the face so hard he wouldn't come near me for weeks. But after, after shit happened we became closer, it's funny really, it's almost like my brothers swapped roles, I never realised how much ALex would understand, how much… And to think of all the time I wasted.

2030. 2030. Right. Well if I'm not with my family, I'll almost certainly be with Taz. Taz, short for Anastasia, horrible name right? I'd love to say it belongs to a horrible person too, but it doesn't, it belongs to a girl with wavy, dirty blond hair and bright brown eyes. My best friend basically. My best friend who always gets me into trouble at school, the kind who my parents want to hate because she encourages me, but they can't because she's like a second daughter to them, constantly round one of our many homes in the holidays, and has been since the age of 7.

Taz who I love dearly. Taz who I tell everything to, who understands it all to. Taz who I would plan my escape with, her smuggling me in her suitcase on her holiday to Spain, where we would both run away and start a new life as miners. Taz who I used to take stupid pictures with, and then decorate the empty space above my bed with them. Taz who will listen to me for hours if I need it, and then will turn around and tell me all her problems too.

All her problems. She trusted me, and look where that got her.

She would've been better off without me. SHE WOULD STILL BE AL…

I can't do this. It's just coming back, the guilt which has refused to leave me, even after all this time. But I must tell you, if you're to understand half of what I've been through. I'll move on.

So it's 2030, and I go to Marlborough College. Alex goes to Eton, and George is due to go there once he finishes Prep school. Dad wanted me to go to a girl's school, but mum argued my case. She said if Alex and George are going where dad went, then I should get to go where she went.

And there I met Maddy, short for Madelaine. (Everyone's name seems to be short for something)I love her so much, and she means so much to me. She's a lot quieter than me, a lot better behaved than me too. I don't mean to play up in class, I just get bored easily and talking seems to ease the boredom, or sending messages, or pulling faces, or whistling… you get the drift. In fact, I seem to get into trouble a lot. At first the teachers tried to ignore it, but then I stopped being unique and interesting. So then I get in trouble at home for getting in trouble at school…

You never realise how much you're going to regret things until they happen do you? I'm going to have to tell you now, I can't keep this up any longer. So here you go, my story:


	2. Chapter 2

Imi thanked the chauffer as she quickly clambered out of the car, then ran up to the steps to their apartment at Kensington Palace, where she would be spending the first few days of her summer half term along with her family and her Uncle's family. She pushed open the front door and ran straight into her waiting mother's arms.

Catherine laughed and hugged her back. Sending her children off to boarding school each term was one of the hardest things she had to do, but it was almost worth it for the exhilaration of welcoming them back.

"Welcome home," William greeted her as he walked into the entrance hall, stealing his daughter from her wife and giving her an equally big hug. "How was school?"

"Meh, schooly I guess," Imi shrugged, "Summer sports suck though."

William laughed, he knew his daughter was as hockey mad as her mother had been before her. "Got much work to do?"

"Will," Catherine protested, "Don't ask her about that already."

"Just some French homework and a bit of revision," Imi shrugged, turning round to the stairs which her little brother was coming down. "Hey squirt," she greeted him.

George just grinned in reply and walked through into the kitchen, flicking his dark fringe across his face as he did so.

Catherine laughed, her whole face lit up with a love for her children. "He's only been home for an hour and he's already eating us out of food!" She exclaimed, before bringing Imi in for another hug, her arms encompassing her daughter's body, which was just a couple of inches shorter than her own now. "I've just missed you all so much."

Imi grimaced and wriggled out of the hug, "Where's Alex? What has he done to get out of this lovely reunion?"

"He's got a meeting with your Grandfather first," her dad replied.

Imi nodded her head in understanding; she was used to this. "Well I'm off to unpack and ring Maddy before she leaves. She's going to Corsica, lucky thing."

Catherine just smiled after the retreating figure of her daughter, leaning her head on her husband's shoulder as she did so. They really were blessed with such wonderful children.

Imogen skidded down the stairs in Kensington Palace, running after her twin cousins, both girls aged 9, who had decided it would be funny to steal her phone.

"Oi, you two, give it back or I'll tickle you to death," She called after them jokingly, secretly sending up a prayer of thanks that she'd put a lock on it. Jumping down the last two stairs, she launched herself straight into her father. "Unf"

Will tried to suppress a smile, his daughter really was the craziest thing. He'd once had a vague idea that as she grew up, she'd calm down. How wrong he was. Here she was, 15, and although he didn't like to admit it, very stunning, but she still ran about with a ridiculous amount of energy, the same infectious laugh she'd inherited from her mother sounding wherever she went. But no, he wasn't supposed to be laughing at her, he was here to tell her off.

Imogen looked up through crystal blue eyes to meet her father's exact same ones. She sighed; she knew that look. "What've I done this time?"

"Office, now," Was his simple reply, a steely undertone detectable in his voice, warning her not to mess with him.

Imi sighed and rolled her eyes, not again! Nevertheless, she was determined to have the last word. "Why is it always your office, why not in the garden? Or in the bath? It would make it a lot more interesting," Will found himself once again trying not to laugh at his daughter as she kept up a steady flow of chatter. Instead, he placed his hand in the small of her back and propelled her towards his door.

"Blasting loud music from their room at midnight," Will read in a monotone voice straight from the letter he held in his hand. Suddenly he burst. Slamming the paper down forcefully onto his desk, he glared at Imi as his voice rose in volume. "What were you thinking?" He tried to keep his voice steady, but his temper was starting to get the better of him.

Imi raised her eyes to meet his, and refused to drop her gaze. In an unflinching voice, she replied simply, "We were trying to cheer Taz up."

"And you thought it couldn't wait till morning then"? Or be done quietly?" Will could feel himself losing control; there was something unnerving about his little girl standing up to him in this way, and he didn't like it.

"No." Was the simple reply that came back. In the silence that followed, Imi was startled to see how serious her father was. Usually he took these things lightly, but this time his mouth was set in a stern, tight-lipped line. Imi's lip started twitching. Her father never could manage the serious face very well. There was something funny about the way he attempted to knit his brows together; they just looked like one long worm.

Imi couldn't take it any longer. She burst into laughter. Tipping her head back, she let out a laugh that sounded exactly like her mother's.

"THIS IS NOT A LAUGHING MATTER." Will's face turned red as he startled his daughter into a stunned silence. "I DO NOT FIND ANYTHING FUNNY ABOUT THIS. ONCE AGAIN YOU HAVE BROKEN SCHOOL RULES, AND I'M NOT GOING TO SIT ABOUT AND TAKE IT LIGHTLY ANYMORE!" In the awkward silence that followed, Imi put up pretence of not-caring, and stared absent mindedly around the room. She wasn't going to let her father see how much she did care, how much she was trying to be well behaved but still seemed to get in trouble, how much she wanted to please him, how much she didn't want to make him angry. But she could be as obstinate as her father when she wanted to, and unfortunately for him, she knew exactly how to wind him up, and pretending to ignore him was one of them.

"LOOK AT ME WHEN I SPEAK TO YOU, IT'S THE LEAST YOU COULD DO." William's hands were tightly clasped behind his back, his own nails digging into his flesh and leaving deep red marks. He had no idea when things had become like this with his daughter, the little girl he had always hoped for, the little girl he had pampered and spoilt, now a grown girl standing before him and cheeking him. But one thing was for certain, he wasn't going to stand for it.

"Hand over your phone." His voice was calmer now, but the steely edge was still there, demanding obedience with the unspoken threat they both knew was there.

"You'll have to get it off Alice first."

How did she always get the better of him? The two stood opposite each other, neither one moving. Above them the light flickered and blew. Still neither of them moved. A child's delighted scream echoed from somewhere in the house. Still neither of them moved.

A moment came and settled, refusing to move and making the time they stood there for seem to last an eternity. William couldn't take this any longer, this was his daughter for God's sake! He sank into his chair and covered his nearly-bald head with his hands. Imi remained standing, awkwardly shifting her weight from foot to foot as she watched her father's body crumple before her eyes.

"I just don't know what to do with you Imi," Will's voice was muffled by his hands, but the choked up throat was still evident. He lifted his head slowly so that his watery eyes focused on her. "Every time I laugh it off, say you're just playing around, and every time you promise me that you won't do it again, that you'll try harder. I know you're clever Imi, it's obvious to anyone who so much as glances at your reports. So why you continue to play up is beyond me!" At this point William threw his hands into the air as if surrendering. "You're supposed to be my brightest child. You don't have a future to tie you down, but you don't seem to want any of it. Are we doing something wrong? Have we failed you?" Will gave a look of such despair that Imi was at loss for words.

"Daddy, I…"

"I don't want to hear it anymore, your excuses. I'm fed up of them," he was gesticulating wildly now, his eyes darting around the room as he searched for the right words. "Don't you want to do well? You have your GCSEs this year, and yet… I just don't understand you anymore. Alex works, and we all know he's never going to be as bright as you. And then, you're supposed to be setting an example to people, what happens when a newspaper…"

"Oh, so this is what it's about is it?" Imi interrupted suddenly, her voice harsh and cold; her eyes flashing with anger. There she was, feeling incredibly guilty, and the whole time her father had only cared about stupid reputations.

Will sighed and rubbed his aching forehead, he hadn't meant for it to come out like that. Everything seemed to be going wrong. "Imi, I'm s…"

"IT'S ALL ABOUT SOMEBODY ELSE. ALEX, THE PUBLIC. YOU OBVIOUSLY DON'T GIVE TWO SHITS ABOUT ME AS A PERSON…"

"Imogen!" His voice was sharp, a mixture of surprise and disgust. He had never heard his daughter swear before.

"Oh sorry for swearing in your presence, _your majesty_." Imi's voice was full of spite as she stormed out the room, slamming the door behind her. Any spectator would have seen an incredibly angry, violent and malicious girl, but it was just her way of covering up the pain which was beginning to slice through her body. This wasn't physical pain, oh no, this was the pain of her heart being ripped in two. The realization that her own father cared more about his family's image than her.

Imi bit back the tears, she wasn't going to let anyone see her cry.

"Hey Im."

She glanced up . Francis, well actually the honourable Francis, her brother's closest friend, was standing in the large hallway, tennis racket in hand. Imi opened her mouth to mutter some reply, but all that came out was a half squeak half hiccup. She turned on her heels and fled up the stairs to the solace of her bedroom, leaving a bemused Francis behind.

Will sat down in his chair. What had just happened? He groaned slightly as he leant forward to rest his head in his hands. He hadn't meant to say that, he really hadn't. However, his regret was hidden beneath the anger he still felt; the sting from being insulted by his own daughter.

The door creaked open and a head framed by long brown locks peered round, "What on earth just happened?" Catherine asked, inviting herself into the room.

When she got no reply, she slowly walked over to where her husband was slouched. Her feet sunk into the deep red carpet as she bent down in front of him and took his head in her hands. Her green eyes, inherited by both her sons, searched his face for an answer.

"Imi happened."

A gentle knock sounded on Imi's door.

"FOR THE MILLIONTH TIME, GO AWAY" Imi screamed, her voice muffled by the pillow over her head and the tears choking her throat.

The door creaked open.

"GO AWAY. GO AWAY. IF YOU DON'T CARE ABOUT ME THE LEAST YOU CAN DO IS LEAVE ME ALONE!" Imogen's voice raised in volume as a high pitched cry escaped her mouth.

Gentle footsteps came across the room, moving slowly as they wove in and out of the soft toys, clothes and other various items strewn across the floor. Catherine perched on the side of Imi's bed, her frame sinking into the large burgundy duvet which perfectly matched the walls. She ran a light hand down the back of her daughter's head.

"Sssh sweetie, it's only me."

Her soft voice had an instant calming effect, and Imi felt all her anger and pain vanish, instead to be replaced with an incredibly guilty feeling. She was acutely aware she had just screamed at her mother for no reason, and that she was now lying in a room littered with any possessions she could fit her hands on in a fit of rage. A minute or contented silence passed, during which Catherine continued to stroke Imi's shoulder.

"Your dad does care about you, you know."

"Funny way he has of showing it," Imi muttered sarcastically, as she turned over to face her mother.

"If you just listened to him,"

"Not you too," Imi moaned, cutting her mother off, "He obviously doesn't care, so I'm not going to make an effort."

"I …"

"Don't bother," Imi turned her back on her mother, signalling the conversation was over.

Catherine sighed and stood up again. "Fine. Don't forget we're going to the Parker's tomorrow. And they'll be cameras, they want to raise the profile of their charity."

Imi sighed; the last thing she wanted right now was to go around making polite talk with strangers, smiling at everyone as she struggled to sip her drink elegantly in front of the cameras. Especially since it was only yesterday she'd been dragged to the film premier with her extended family.

Her mum knew that sigh, and she knew what would make it better. "Oh, and they said Taz is going to be there."

Imi rolled over and propped her head up on one long, slender arm. "She's really scared you know, Taz, everything's getting worse. She's certain her parents are going to divorce."

Catherine studied her daughter's face, the concern in her eyes for her best friend, the worry etched on her face. All she could do was grimace in reply.

"She's always welcome round here if it gets really bad, she knows that right?"

"Mmhmm," Imi sighed and rolled back over, so she was now staring at her high ceiling.

Catherine took the opportunity to quietly exit the room.

William removed his arm from where it was wrapped around the sleeping body of his wife; he was tossing and turning in bed and didn't want to wake her from her peaceful slumber. Thoughts from the day that had just passed whirred around his brain, a mixture or anger, regret and confusion keeping him from his own sleep.

He had promised himself that he would make it up to his daughter over dinner, that he would apologise and they would be back to their normal happy relationship. But the fact he had to literally force her out of her bedroom to come down to dinner hadn't put him in a good mood. In fact, by the time they were all sitting down, Imi wearing a rarely seen sullen face, he felt all his anger return to him. Why couldn't she just cooperate, why did she insist on being difficult? So instead of the apology he had already rehearsed many times in his head, he came out with something about unfinished French homework.

Big mistake.

All he gained was an exasperated look from Catherine as Imi slammed down her knife and fork, told him that she was perfectly capable of doing her own homework, and refused to talk for the rest of the meal, vanishing as soon as it was over.

He hadn't seen or spoken to her since. He'd already worked out that knocking on her door wasn't going to get him anywhere.

And the worst thing? He was still angry at her. He knew he shouldn't be. He knew she was his daughter and he should love her all the same, that he shouldn't hold a grudge against her, Kate had told him this enough, but he couldn't help it. She was playing up at school, she had cheeked him, she had **sworn **at him for crying out loud! And he wasn't going to take it.

Catherine observed her husband, standing alone in the empty, grand entrance hall and staring absent-mindedly at the pictures around him, as she stood at the top of the stairs. He was obviously fretting over something, and was oblivious to her presence. She carefully made her way down the stairs, without making a noise, and slipped her arms around her husband's waist.

"Guess who"

William signed and turned round to return the hug, kissing her lightly on top of her brown curls.

"What's wrong?" Catherine asked from the safety of his arms.

"Nothing new," he responded, drawing back out of the hug and holding Catherine at arm's length, taking in her perfectly curled hair and flowing red sun dress. "You look beautfiful," he whispered, smiling to himself as he did so, "Now, are you really the only one ready in this house? Harry and his lot left ages ago"

"That's not fair, it's only him and Rachel that are going; Alice and Emma are being left behind! But as for out lot, I think Alex is ready and waiting outside, as usual, as for the other two I have absolutely no idea!"

Right on queue there came a crashing noise at the top of the stairs, followed by a bout of laughter. Catherine rolled her eyes as George came quickly down the stairs and straight out through the door, closely followed by Imi, her cheeks flushed and her blue eyes sparkling the same colour as her short dress.

"Where've you been?" William asked sharply, slightly startled by the happy manner and radiance of his daughter, the complete opposite to how he felt himself.

Imi stopped in her tracks, and gave him a surprised look. "Did you want me to go out with wet hair?"

"Well you could have hurried up." Her father was glaring now, and Imi was glaring straight back.

"I'm sorry, I didn't realise the world was about to end."

Will sighed again, he seemed to be doing a lot of that at the moment, Imi was really getting on his nerves. "I just don't get you sometimes."

"Well what a shame, but you've already taken my phone, so there's not much else you can do," Imi replied, her eyes narrowing as she dared him to contradict her.

That was it, William thought, he had not helped bring his daughter into the world for her to stand there and insult him. Unfortunately for him, he found himself articulating his thoughts. "Sometimes I wish you weren't my daughter."

"Will!" Catherine cried, with an involuntary intake of breath, "Take that back"

"No mum, it's fine, he might as well tell the truth," Imogen whispered, not daring to raise her voice in case it gave away how upset and hurt she was, "And all this time I thought you might actually like me." Catherine opened her mouth to butt in, but Imi carried on, her voice now raising in volume as her father stood their awkwardly, as though bemused by what had come out of his mouth. "It's fine, because I HATE YOU TOO."

And with that Imogen ran out the front door, slamming it behind her. Catherine went to go after her, but William reached out a hand to stop her. Turning round, she stared at her husband angrily. "You better go after her and apologise, right now," she demanded, "How DARE you say that to her?"

"There's no point," Will murmered quietly, "She hates me."

Catherine immediately detected the hurt in his voice. The pain hearing those words had caused him. He cared about his family much more than he would ever let on.

"What has she even done that's so bad anyway?" she asked quietly.

Will just shrugged his shoulders, not trusting himself to speak, and headed for the door.

The whole afternoon Will could not keep his eyes off Imogen. He found himself tuning out of conversations, dumbstruck when asked questions and clueless about anything anyone said. And people were beginning to notice, he could tell, giving him questioning looks and moving on quickly. He couldn't deal with it, the fact his daughter had rejected him, and yet seemingly didn't care. She was moving in and out crowds, smiling and shaking hands as if nothing had happened. Usually Will would have worried about the number of cameras which seemed to focus on her, or the amount of young male interest she was receiving, but he was too caught up in his own self-misery to notice.

Meanwhile, Catherine was standing at the edge of the large garden, champagne in hand as she talked with Karen Parker and Rachel, her sister in law. Half listening to the conversation, she was keeping an eye on her daughter. She was worried about Imi. Just a few days ago and she and William had been getting on like a house on fire, and then suddenly… Well, Catherine wasn't even sure of what had happened, but she knew it needed sorting out, and soon. A slither of blue caught her eye, as she saw Imogen slip away from the people she was talking to and greet Taz at the edge of the garden, where it backed one of the many large woods in Surrey. Judging by the slump in Taz's figure, she guessed it wasn't good news either. Catherine watched as her daughter reached out, as if to hug her best friend, but stop as she glanced over her shoulder straight at one of the many cameras trained right at her. Instead, Imi grabbed Taz by the arm and dragged her into the woods. Catherine felt one of their security offices start next to her as he was about to go after them, but remembering her conversation with Imogen yesterday, Catherine put out her arm to stop him. They had been promised enough times that the event was safe, and anyway, her daughter deserved some privacy.

Half an hour later and the event was in full swing. Canapés were being served, and a band had started playing as the stalls explaining the charity the event was for were being set up. Groups had formed across the crowded garden, and the hosts had made sure everyone was happily engaged in conversation.

A shot sounded.

The noise echoed beneath the trees as hundreds of birds flew up from the branches and into the sky.

Everything was quiet. Everything froze. An electric wave of shock ran throughout the manicured bushes.

Then suddenly everything happened at once. Security guards stepped in front of the William and Catherine, guns drawn, as others did the same in front of Harry, Rachel, Alex and George, whilst a child somewhere started crying, it's high pitched scream echoing throughout the garden across which a server was running to reach the telephone to call the police, accidently banging into one of the hosts who was trying to calm someone down as he did so. A loud noise of chatter rose up, behind which people were hiding their fear and concerns, as journalists whipped out their cameras.

Then suddenly a scream, much louder than anything else, rose up above the noise. A loud, high scream coming from Catherine's mouth as she took an unbalanced step backwards.

Ignoring the hundreds of pairs of eyes looking in their direction, William slipped his arms around Catherine's waist and caught her before she collapsed completely. "Sssh, it's OK, noone's hurt, they're going to sort it out," he whispered soothingly into her ears in an attempt to calm her down.

"Immmi," Catherine murmered, a sense of panic invading her voice, which was barely more than a whisper, but gradually raising in volume, "Imi, woods, I saw... WILL, WHERE'S IMI?"

Realisation slowly dawned on Will's face, and he felt his knees buckled beneath him as Catherine slipped out from his arms and began running towards where she had last seen her daughter standing.

"Kate!" he screamed after her, reaching out a hand that just brushed against her retreating back.

She turned round, sheer terror written all over her face as tears of panic tumbled down it. She turned and ran further towards the woods. The same blind fear washed over William, and he started to run after her, but he felt himself pulled back by a pair of strong arms.

"Will, no."

William recognized the familiar voice of his brother who was holding him back.

"Let me go, my daughter…IMOGEN. I NEED TO FIND HER! DEAD. SHOT. I NEED" The desperation was straining through Will's voice, he was so confused now he barely knew what he was doing, he just knew he needed to find Imi, and find her safe.

"No Will," Harry cried, battling against his brother as he held him in his arms. "No. This isn't going to help."

Will gave up the battle he was losing and collapsed as he collapsed back onto his brother. He was dimly aware of the fact Catherine was caught in the arms of a bodyguard who was trying to prevent her running any further, but his brain was hardly able to function what was happening properly. His daughter had been shot dead. The threat that had always hung over his family, yet he had never actually thought would happen, had finally happened. His daughter was dead.

William suddenly realised that the large, open space was now almost deserted, the last few people being shepherded off, the cameras banished from sight.

"Will, Will listen to me," Harry's voice repeated over and over again, and Will struggled to make his brain tune into what his brother as saying, "We don't know if anything has happened to her. Will, this is important. It's a shot, it doesn't mean she received it. You need to pull yourself together now. For Imi, for Kate. This isn't going to get anything done to help, you know they won't let you anywhere near there anyway."

For Imi, For Kate, William repeated in his head. You can do this, you can do this. Blinking back the unmanly tears that had blinded his vision, Will was shocked to see his wife slumped on the grassy slope, her body shaking. He released himself from Harry's grip and ran over to her, pulling her to her feet and into a massive bear hug. "Ssh darling," He calmed her, whilst at the same time calming himself, "It's going to be OK, they're sorting it out now."

He continued to stroke her head, his large hands running down her back and over her glossy locks, as he looked up for confirmation.

One of the security guards nodded, "The police are out there now, searching for the two girls. When they find something, you'll be the first to know."

"Taz was with her," a teary Catherine whispered into his chest, answering the question he had been wondering before he had chance to articulate it. William winced, glancing around him he realised the only other people around, minus the security gurads, were the Parkers, Taz's parents and the hosts, standing significantly apart from each other and looking ashen-faced. He gave them a watery smile over the head of Kate, and then resumed just staring into empty space, whispering to Kate every now again.

Usually when something memorable happens, time either goes really fast or it slows down and drags. But for William at that moment, time just ceased to exist. He couldn't have told anyone how long he stood there for, it could have been forever, or it could have been for no time at all. When the second shot sounded he'd barely reacted at all, apart from to draw Catherine closer into his chest. Harry had left them long ago; gone off to find Rachel, who had taken George and Alex with her. So when the police officer had walked over to them from the woods, there was only William and Catherine, the Parkers and a few security guards there to look expectantly at him.

The officer took off his hat, and fiddled nervously with it in his hands. He had never had news like this to relay before. Taking a deep breath, he informed them, "We have found a body, which we believes belong to Anastasia Parker."

Will was aware of a sharp intake of breath and two frozen bodies next to him, but he couldn't care less, there was only one thing he wanted to know right now.

"And Imogen?" Kate whispered, turning from William's chest so she was facing the officer directly.

He started. Should he tell them now how there had been someone else there, a man who had been holding the other girl's dead body and shouted how this was to be the fate of their precious princess, before shooting himself in front of them? He looked into the pair of worried eyes, the obvious attempt to be strong and optimistic.

"There is no sign of her."


	3. Chapter 3

The country was in uproar.

The world was in uproar.

They were calling it the biggest story since Diana's death.

They were calling it a bigger story.

How did this happen? How was it allowed to happen? What was going to happen now?

You could barely turn on a TV without these questions being thrown at you. You couldn't walk into a shop without Princess Imogen's face being thrust into your own.

Different papers took a different track. Some showed her as a child, showed her growing up, showed them as a family.

Others showed her at the film premiere, highlighted her growing beauty, asked how the royal family would cope without her.

Photographers stalked any close relations, and accompanied the pictures with headlines exclaiming how the family was in shock.

Some showed images of Anastasia, found rare pictures of her with Imi, and asked if this was to be the fate of their own princess. Little did they know the threats that had been made, as the Palace worked hard to reveal as little information as possible.

One picture appeared over and over again. Of Imi staring straight into a camera and clutching her best friends arm before disappearing into the woods.

Some people blamed the press, some people blamed the security, when in reality, it was just their excuse to do something.

The palace was inundated with letters. People didn't know what to do, she wasn't dead, but what if she was never found? Some left flowers, which others then removed, protesting she wasn't dead yet.

The prime minister was constantly in meetings, the royal family were constantly in meetings, various royal families and Governments were sending their condolences; the whole world seemed to have stopped, yet time continued to move.

And in the royal household, nothing was getting easier.

Catherine took a deep breath and closed her eyes, trying to block out the nightmare of the last few days as her fist simultaneously closed around the smooth, round handle of the door. Twisting it to the left, she froze as the loud creak echoed throughout the landing. She hadn't told anyone she wanted to do this. This was for herself: after hours of worrying, she was finally going to do it. But she didn't want anyone else to know, this was between her and Imi. Her precious Imi.

She needn't have worried, no one was around to see her as she pushed open the door and crept quietly into the room, holding her breath as she did so. Tears sprung to her green eyes immediately, the room was left exactly as if Imi had just walked out for a second. The covers were flung back, work was scattered across her desk and the white wardrobe doors were flung open, clothes trailing out and onto the floor. Catherine tip-toed across the room and ran her hand lightly down a little white dress that hung in the wardrobe. Imi hadn't worn it since she was 10, but she had refused to throw it away, claiming she loved it too much. She had always been a hoarder. Catherine turned away from the wardrobe and shut the doors behind her as little drops of water fell from her eyes. She couldn't lose her daughter, she just couldn't.

Letting the tears roll slowly down her face, Catherine walked over to the bed and smoothed out the heavy covers. What if Imi never slept in this bed again? What if..? No Kate, no, she told herself, don't think like this, it's going to be OK. It has to be OK.

She knelt down onto the bed, feeling her knees sink into the deep foam mattress. Wiping away the tears, she picked up the teddy which was leaning against the headboard. Timmy. Timmy and Immy, inseparable since the age of 1. His little bow was skewed, his brown fur matted and worn from all the hugs he had received. When Catherine lifted him up to her face, she could almost smell Imi's shampoo. She bit down on her lip to stop the tears from flowing again. She had promised herself she would hold herself together, just for now, for Imi. She wanted to think without crying, remember without breaking down and hope without a sense of dread. Keeping Timmy firmly in her left hand, she traced the pictures that covered the space above Imi's bed. Photo after photo stared back at her, arranged in a messy collage. Photos of a small child with big blue eyes and wispy, bleach blonde hair grinning from the safety of her parents' arms, a slightly bigger child being giving a piggy back from her brother, the same child laughing as she stood in the sea in a little pink swimsuit holding her little brother up by the arms. Then there was Catherine's all-time favourite picture, the whole family in the snow, Imi, aged 8, perched precariously on top of a snowman as she clung onto her father's head. And then as she got older, photos of her pulling silly faces with friends, the hockey team from school, photos from parties and school plays and holidays.

And in every single photo, the same smile, the same sparkling blue eyes, the same happiness radiating out. No matter what she was doing, Imi's eyes were dancing with a carefree happiness, undamaged by the world and its cruelty.

It was never going to be like that again.

Catherine knew that even if they got Imi back, no, when they found Imi and she came home, everything would be different. She had no clue of what she was going through, where her daughter was or when she would be found. If she would ever see her again.

And it was all her fault.

She could have stopped it. She could have let the security guard go after them. She could have alerted somebody. But instead she'd ignored it. Instead, no one knew where Imi was, or if she would ever be seen again.

And there and then, sitting all alone on her daughter's abandoned bed, and clutching her childhood toy in her hands, Catherine burst into tears. Pulling the duvet up to her chin, she sobbed her heart out like she had never done before.

"I need you Imi," she whispered between cries, "Please be safe. Dear God, please let her be safe."

Meanwhile, William had just come out his office, an hour long meeting where Scotland Yard had basically told him that they hadn't found anything promising yet, but they were still trying. Or in other words, they weren't very hopeful.

He turned to Harry, who was standing next to him and watching him with a concerned face.

"Harry, I can't do this anymore. I can't, I just can't. What if she's already dead, what if I never see her again and the last words I said to her were I wish you weren't my daughter?" William's voice was beginning to shake, and he could feel the all-to-familiar tears building up behind his eyes, "I'm an awful father Harry, I'm such an awful father. I should have protected her, I should have"

Harry grabbed him by the shoulders and forced his brother to look straight at him, "No Will, no you're not. You're an amazing father, and Imi is so lucky to have you as a dad, and so are George and Alex. If you keep beating yourself up about it, we're going to get nowhere. When they find Imi, and they will, you'll both just apologize and it will all be OK."

William wanted to believer his brother, he really wanted to. But he couldn't; the guilt was to strong. If he hadn't been so selfish and preoccupied he might have noticed she had gone, he could have done something to stop it. His shoulders slumped as he lowered his voice, barely wanting to articulate what he was going to say. "But what if, what if she never comes home, and I never see her again. No," he started, seeing Harry open his mouth to interrupt him, "Don't tell me not to say it, because it's a possibility isn't it? How could I ever live with myself, knowing what I said and did?" His voice had dropped back down to a whisper, as his back began to shake, "And the worst thing is, she'd done her French homework after all. I know it sounds stupid, but I shouted at her for something she wasn't even guilty of, I…"

William couldn't finish his sentence, because the tears that were now flowing freely had choked up his voice. He stumbled as if to sit down, but there were no chairs in the polished entrance hall. Harry studied him, trying to work out if there was anything left he could say or do to make it better. He thought of how empty he felt without his niece's glowing presence, and tried to understand how Will would be feeling, how he himself would feel if this was one of his girls missing. Harry could see only one thing that would help.

"You need Kate, Will, and she probably needs you. Go and find her."

Kate. His lovely Kate. His beautiful Kate. She would make it OK.

He nodded through the tears, and turned to climb the stairs, his footsteps as heavy as his heart felt.

He reached the top of the stairs as Catherine shut Imi's door behind her, her face red and blotchy. They turned and looked at each other for a moment, each assessing the sorry state of the other, before flying into each other's arms. And as they both stood on the landing, locked in an emotional embrace and finding comfort in each other's arms, they realised there was only one way they were going to make it through this; together.

A couple of days later, a week after the terrible day, and it was the 25th May 2031, Imogen's 16th birthday.

Catherine woke up, and immediately burst into tears as she realised what day it was. Her daughter was 16, almost an adult now, and she should be celebrating as any other girl would be. Catherine thought of the presents which had lain in her wardrobe for weeks, waiting to be unwrapped. She thought of the elaborate meal, the surprise party they had been planning for months before hand. She thought of what they should be doing today, how right now the whole family would all be crowded around the dining room table, eating and laughing and wishing her many happy returns of the day. She thought of her own 16th birthday, when she'd received her bracelet, almost identical to the one she had chosen for Imi, how her mother had told her it was her special day and she could do whatever she liked.

Catherine couldn't bare it; her whole body shook as she sobbed her heart out. Her chest heaved and her face ached, but the torrential pour of tears continued to come, accompanied by loud cries from her mouth. Gulping for air, Catherine choked on her own salty tears. She couldn't breathe, it felt like someone was squeezing her throat, and tearing at her heart as they did so.

"Deep breaths sweetie, take deep breaths."

The low voice drifted into Catherine's head, and she tried to focus on the words. Slowly, her breathing began to return to normal, but her body had taken on a life of its own, continuing to shudder as the last few tears dried up on her face.

Catherine was aware of two strong arms wrapped tightly around her waist, Will's arms, pulling her into his chest. He held her like that for what seemed like eternity, until finally her body lay still and the only noise coming from her were her sniffles.

"I've been thinking," William murmered soothingly into her ear, "Imi wouldn't want us to cry and be upset, especially not today, she'd want us to go about and be as happy as possible. I think we should do that, try and put a brave face on, if only for her."

Catherine shook her head and buried it deeper into William's chest, so he had to tilt his head down in order to pick up the faint traces of her voice and hear what she was saying.

"But I want to be with my daughter. I should to be with my daughter. I need to be with my daughter."

Catherine repeated the cycle over and over again as William rocked her back and forth, as if she was a baby in his arms. It was taking all his effort not to cry himself, but he had woken up with a new resolve to stay strong today, for his daughter and his wife, and he was determined to stick to it.

"Does this make me selfish? Am I awfully selfish?" Catherine whispered, clinging tightly onto his arms.

"Not at all darling, not at all," William repeated, as he brushed her forehead with his lips, "It just shows how much you love her; what an amazing mother you are."

"I just miss her so much," Catherine mumbled, leaning her head onto William's chest.

They stayed there for minute after minute, each lost in their own thoughts as they clung onto the other for comfort. Eventually Catherine broke the silence, her voice now firmer.

"I remember when we, when we lost our baby," Catherine's voice quivered as she remembered her failed pregnancy, "I was so sad, just lying in my bed for day on end."

"And Imi snuck into see you, even though I had forbidden it," William carried on from her, closing his eyes fondly as he pictured the scene.

"And she climbed into bed next to me, and asked in that adorable little voice of hers if it was true that she wasn't going to have a little sister or brother anymore."

"And when you told her it was, she said…"

""Oh well, at least I've still got you and daddy and Alex."," Tears were falling from Catherine's eyes once again, but this time they were happy tears, spouting from a tender place in Catherine's heart, "And in that moment I realised just how lucky I was. So lucky to have my husband and my beautiful children."

Will ran his hand lightly down Catherine's head, caressing her brown locks as he did so, "And I came in to find you both huddled together in a peaceful sleep."

"She was only 2," Catherine mumbled, yawning as she cuddled back down into William's chest. "I really am blessed with such a wonderful family."

William looked down at Catherine, who had fallen back asleep in his arms. She looked more peaceful than she had done for days. "And I'm blessed with such an amazing wife," he whispered, holding her tighter as she did so.  
>He had already lost his mother, he was in danger of losing his daughter; there was no way he was losing his wife.<p>

Carole reached for the remote, feeling incredibly guilty as she did so. She had promised and promised herself that she wouldn't look at the news, she was worried enough as it is was without the gloomy news to lift her spirits, but everytime she found herself with nothing to do she ended up turning on the TV. And now she was retired she had more than enough spare time on her hands.

The last week and a bit had been hell. After the original days of panic and fear had subsided, Carol had woken up each morning with a sense of dread and loss she could do nothing about. To say nothing about how scared she was over her first granddaughter, Carole was worried about Catherine. The original tearful phone conversations had passed, the obvious pain and desperation replaced by a monotone voice, and Carole knew her daughter, and she could see she was losing hope. In fact, she had stopped calling now, feeling such a nuisance that she thought it would be better to give her daughter some space.

The only problem was Carole didn't know what to do with herself.

So here she was again, switching on the news channel. After all, it can't be worse than 4 days ago, Carole thought, when Mike had walked in to find her sobbing over the reports of her granddaughter's birthday.

She tuned in to the interview they were showing, with an elderly Welshman who appeared to be crying.

"Beautiful girl, beautiful child," he repeated in his thick accent, pausing to wipe away a tear, "Always used to visit my shop whenever they were in Anglesey. So polite, so well brought up, a real treasure. I remember this one time, when she came into my shop and asked for a strawberry ice-cream, and I taught her how to say it in Welsh. She tried so hard to copy me, her face screwing up in concentration as she tripped over the foreign language. She looked so disappointed with herself when she went couldn't say it," At this the man shook his head at the memory, a small smile appearing on his lips. "And then a week later she came back, but we weren't selling ice-creams anymore. Looked fit to burst, like she was going to through a paddy right there and then. Her mother was with her too of course, wonderful woman, and she looked shocked at her behaviour. Told her to stop being silly, that she didn't need an ice-cream. And then the little Imogen, bless her soul, came out with "But I've been practising how to ask for it." And so I told her it didn't matter, she could show me her sentence anyway and then I'd teach her another one, and she perked right up. She'd learnt it perfectly too, "Ga' i hufen iâ, plis?", she had the accent spot on and everything. It's true what they say, incredibly bright that one. Ever since then, every time she came to my shop, I'd teach her a new phrase, right up until this day. I like to think that I helped a princess learn Welsh. Just to think that she might never set foot in my shop again…" The man's voice tailed off as a look of sadness overcame his face, "She doesn't deserve any of this. I'm just praying to God they find her safe and sound."

Carole wiped a tear from her eye, this was her granddaughter, her granddaughter she loved so much, who had made such an impression on people. The man's voice echoed in her mind, 'she doesn't deserve any of it." For the hundredth time that day, Carole sent up a prayer that Imogen would be found and brought back to them, and fast.

Philippa slammed the car door shut and walked through the crowd of photographers to get to Kensington Palace. After almost 20 years of being photographed, she barely even flinched as a camera was shoved in her face, and she was too busy worrying to register any of the questions being flung at her. Slipping nimbly through the gate, Philippa started to worry over what her sister's reaction to her appearing unannounced would be. She had hardly been invited, in fact, Catherine had positively told her to stay away. But her sisterly instincts were too strong, she knew Catherine needed her, and seeing as George was at home this evening to look after their son, Philippa had figured she would pay a visit.

As she was let in through the grand doorway, Philippa basically bounded into the lounge, where she had been told Catherine would be.

Philippa bit down on her lip as she saw her sister, looking so sad and withdrawn and standing in the middle of the room. How would she react to her being there? Catherine turned round and looked at her sister. She was surprised to see her here, but too drained to show it.

"Oh Pip," she said through muffled breath, before flinging herself at her sister.

Philippa concentrated all her energy into hugging her sister back. She wanted to show her how much she loved her, how she would always be there for her, but she didn't want to sound soppy or patronising, so she tried to convey all these emotions through a hug.

Pulling out of the hug, Philippa observed Catherine's tired-looking face. She suddenly found herself at loss of what to say, knowing the 'how are you feeling?' question must be getting repetitive.

"Where's Will?" She asked instead. Philippa had assumed that they'd always be together at such a horrible time, seeing as they shared such a close bond.

"In a meeting with his father and an officer, discussing some new leads they've found."

Philippa studied Catherine's non-committal expression, and asked hesitantly, "That's good isn't it?"

Catherine let out a long sigh and flopped down into one of the sofas, covering her face with her her hands. "I've just given up now. What's the point in hoping anymore, just to be let down? It's been a week and a half and these leads have got them nowhere. If they were holding her for ransom they'd have heard from them by now. It's highly unlikely I'm ever going to see Imi again, and I may as well face it." Catherine wasn't even crying now, she was past that stage. Instead she just felt empty, drained of emotion, and now she had finally articulated what she had been thinking for days it seemed more definite. She was convinced this was it. She was honestly faced with a future without her daughter.

Philippa sat down next to her and wrapped her arm around her sister, she was shocked to hear what her sister was saying, but determined not to show it. "Kate, this isn't you. You're the older sister who always encouraged me, told me never to give up, that anything was possible. Where's this coming from? You know they can find Imi, one week and a half, what's that in the grand scheme of things?"

Catherine shook her head, "I just don't know any more, I just don't…"

They were interrupted by a breathless Will barging through the door.

"Oh, hi Pippa," he greeted her quickly, before turning to Catherine, "Kate, come now, someone's phoned the officer and we think it's important."

Giving Philippa a small, apologetic smile, Catherine stood up and took William's offered hand, allowing him to guide her out the room. She could tell William was excited, that this was important, just from the intensity of his expression of which she hadn't seen a likeness for days. Catherine found herself holding her breath in anticipation. Maybe, just maybe…? No, she told herself, don't even go there.

Pushing open the door, they both stared at the officer who was still on the phone, their eyes begging an answer to the question they didn't have to ask.

Removing the phone from his ear, the officer stared at them both straight in the eyes, "Your daughter had been found, but she's not in a good state, they're taking her to the hospital right away."

Imi was huddled in the corner of the bare room, her head resting on her knees as she tried to block out everything. Tried to make her brain as blank as possible. She had to stop thinking, she had to. If she could stop thinking then she could forget, forget the pain which was overwhelming every part of her body, forget the scenes she couldn't help replaying in her head, forget her normal and ordinary life which seemed an eternity ago.

Forget the memories.

Forget the memory of waking up in a bare room, a peculiar taste in her mouth and a groggy head, the last thing she remembered being a hand slipped around her mouth and a gun shoved at Taz's head.

Forget the memory of the first night. When a stranger had come into the room, pushed her up against the wall and slipped his tongue into her mouth. Forget how she had bitten down hard on his tongue. Forget the words, "You bitch", "you whore", as he slapped her over and over again. Forget the metallic taste in her mouth as her knees went weak and he'd screamed at her how she was going to get what she deserved.

Imi bit down on her tongue to stop herself from screaming at the memory and edged further into the corner, trying to get as far away as possible from the bed, standing alone in the room as if taunting her. If she screamed, they would come again. That's all her life had become, one endless, timeless wait until the next time one of them would come in. But they didn't bring food, they brought an act which made Imi repulsed by her own body, made her shiver and cry as soon as they walked out, made her scream and cry for her mother, which would just cause them to come back up again.

Imi was learning. She had learnt there was no way she was ever going to escape, that her dream of her prince charming bursting in and rescuing her wasn't going to happen either. She'd learnt the pain wasn't going to go away either, the pain between her legs, the pain in her throat, the pain of her face, the pain of her ribs and the gash down her chest, the pain of her scalp. The pain her brain was constantly screaming at her, when it wasn't telling her how worthless she was, how disgusting she was.

They were getting to her, Imi was dimly aware of the fact somewhere in her head, but she was so exhausted she had given up trying, given up trying to stay sane. Her life had become one cycle of abuse, mental, physical, sexual, she couldn't even distinguish anymore. She could barely remember her mother's face, what her life had been like. All she wanted to do now was slip into unconsciousness, never having to feel or think again. She was desperate for water, but the tap in the ensuite, the little box room which had seemed such a luxury, was too far away from her. Besides, she hadn't eaten for however long she had been here, she was going to die, what was the point in prolonging her life?

A large thud sounded downstairs. Imi flinched, covering her head with her hands against a blow that never came. She let out a little whimper; everything scared her now. Raised voices. Imi was used to it, but this time some voices sounded different. They were forceful, almost demanding. No Imi, you're imagining it, she told herself, you've finally cracked and you're imagining things. But there it was again, what were they saying? Imi bent her head to the floor and pressed her ear to the floor, not bothering to move her dirty, tangled hair out of the way. Had she really just heard the word police? You're finally going Imi, you're imagining your rescue, a little voice in her head told her.

More raised voices, an unfamiliar shout sounded through the bare floorboards, something to do with moving out the way.

Suddenly the door flew open.

"YOU FUCKING IDIOT, THIS IS ALL YOUR FUCKING FAULT." The kicks flew at Imi fast and hard, damaging any exposed flesh and leaving her. The giver's eyes were flashing dangerously with a vicious madness, and as the thuds climbing up the stairs became louder, the kicks became harder and the insults louder "YOU TOLD THEM DIDN'T YOU, YOUR FUCKING LITTLE HIGHNESS. YOU DELIBERATELY RUINED OUR PLANS. YOU'RE A SCHEMING LITTLE BITCH, YOU WANTED US IN THE TOWER ALL ALONG DIDN'T YOU. YOU SCANK. YOU WHORE. YOU…"

The kicks stopped as the man was hauled off her. Imi's whole body was trembling uncontrollably, she could barely even tell what was happening anymore. Something about evidence and used against you drifted her way, but Imi's brain was in a fight with itself and took in none of it. As she slowly realised the kicks had stopped and the imminent danger was over, she felt deprived of death, her body was screaming at her to do something so she did all she could do; she gave up. Her breathing began to slow down and her body felt heavy.

"Imogen, Imogen, can you hear me."

Someone was calling her name. A name which belonged to a life she could barely remember. Using every ounce of energy she had left in her body, Imi forced her eyes open.

A man was crouching in front of her, a different man. A man in a black uniform.

"It is Imogen yes?"

Imi inclined her had very slowly, her eyelids drooping as she did so, but they stayed open long enough to catch a glimpse of a smile on his face.

A smile, she hadn't seen that in a long time.

"Well we've come to take you home."

Home, that sounds nice, thought Imi. She tried to speak this, to tell the man she'd like that, but nothing came out. Instead she collapsed forwards into his arms as she let the blackness engulf her.


	4. Chapter 4

Catherine held on tightly to her husband's hand as they sat on the waiting chairs in the hospital, outside the room where their daughter was currently being treated. Treated for what exactly, they didn't know, as the doctors were refusing to tell them. Polite conversation had passed, and they were each left alone with their own thoughts.

Catherine wasn't even sure how she should be feeling now. Part of her wanted to run in the room right now and see her daughter, give her a massive hug and celebrate the fact she was still alive. Yet, yet a part of her was scared. A part of her which was telling her to get up and leave the hospital, that she didn't want to see Imogen ill and hurt. It was over an hour ago now they'd arrived, just to be told she was in a dangerous condition and needed immediate attention. A dangerous condition. The words floated around Catherine's brain, haunting her every thought. The staff had refused to elaborate, instead rushing off to treat Imogen, and leaving the couple alone with only their imagination to explain the condition.

Catherine was aware of William's thumb stroking her own in a comforting manner; he was obvious thinking the same thoughts. She turned to look up at him, "How bad do you think she is?" Catherine whispered.

"I'm sure," William started, about to make some encouraging comment, but as he stared back into the piercing green eyes he realised he couldn't lie to his wife. "I don't know," he replied quietly, "I just don't know."

Catherine sighed and leant her head against his shoulder."At least they've found her," she replied, but her words lacked convication. The excitement and hope her daughter's return had brought her just a couple of hours before had vanished, to be replaced once again by worry and doubt.

William just squeezed her hand tighter.

The door opened and the doctor returned from behind it. He wiped his creased forhead with the back of his hand and gave a queasy smile. "You can come in now," he said clearly. "But," he faltered as William and Catherine both stood up straight away, "I warn you, she isn't in the best state, and she's not conscious. It might be…," he paused as he searched for the right word, "upsetting for you."

"We understand," William nodded, answering for them both as he knew Catherine wouldn't be able to trust her voice, "But all the same…"

"Yes, yes, of course," the doctor mumbled, and waved his hand in the direction of the door.

William made sure Catherine's hand was still firmly in his, knowing that if she was anything as anxious as he was… William shook his head and guided them both through the door.

They had both imagined how bad a state Imi could be him, but nothing could have prepared them for the sight they saw.

William stopped short in his tracks. This couldn't be Imi, it just couldn't. This girl was so pale and drawn, not rosy cheeked and full of life. Aware he was blocking the doorway, he took a tentative step forwards. William heard his wife's gasp and felt her hand slip from his. Catherine ran towards the bedside and crouched down next to it. Her body shaking, she reached out her hand to touch Imi, as if to check she was real, but she hesitated and pulled her hand back, afraid of inflicting any more damage.

William was aware of the repeated whispers of his daughter's name coming from Catherine's lips, but he couldn't tear his attention away from the bruises that covered the whole side of her face. From the exposed flesh of her arm which was battered and torn. From the banage covering the whole of her left ribcage. From the cut lips and swollen flesh. From the drip and receptors on her chest which attached her arm to a beeping machine.

"What's that for?" He questioned the doctor, standing next to him, in a rather short manner. William was aware he sounded rude, but that was the last thing to concern him at the moment, and it was either that or break down into tears.

The doctor fiddled with his hands awkwardly, and replied in a low voice, "We're monitoring her temperature, it's dangerously high at the moment, she's in some kind of fever which means she keeps slipping in and out of consciousness, and…"

He stopped mid senence as Imi let out a low groan. Catherine gasped and reached out again, this time laying her index finger over Imi's pale hand.

"And?" William probed after a minute's silence, "What else is wrong?" He turned back to the doctor, trying to keep his voice low so as Catherine wouldn't hear. His eyes were flashing with a depseparation to know the answer, yet a fear of what it might be.

"Severly undernourished," the doctor replied, his face folded into a frown, "It doesn't look like she's eaten in days. And she's dehydrated too." He turned back to William, seeking confirmation to carry on. A slight inclination of the head gave him the approval he needed. "And then there' at least 2 broken ribs, and a large gash across the ribs which appears to have been causee by a knife. Not to mention the severe bruising," His voice dropped, " I'd say she was cruelly physically abused."

A few moments passed in awkward silence. William shook his head, "Why?," he asked under his breath, "Why?"

The doctor opened his mouth as if to speak, then closed it again. "Go on," William said quietly.

"All the evidence points to sexual abuse as well."

William shuddered at the though of it, and felt anger growing inside of him. He stared at his unmoving daughter; he couldn't believe this was happening, couldn't believe this had happened. His eyes moved to Catherine, who had stood up, her lips quivvering and her eyes portraying the panic she felt. William realised she had heard every word.

"But she's going to be alright." It was more of a statement than a question. A statement with a steely undertone which dared the doctor to contradict. "She is, isn't she?"

Again, the doctor paused as he searched for the right words. "There is no reason why she shouldn't make a full recovery. But," a deep breath, "There is also a possibility she won't make it through, her body is very weak right now. It depends whether she can fight it off." He looked up to meet the two pairs of frightened eyes which were staring right at him. "Although even if she does pull through, the damage is likely to go a lot deeper than just physical scars."

Both Catherine and William turned to look at their daughter,lying there oblivious to her surroundings. "Oh Kate," William whispered, as he walked over and wrapped his arm around her body, drawing her closer to him as he sought the comfort he needed.

As Catherine lay against his chest, her tears seeping through his shirt, William reached out his hand and placed it on Imi's, along which Catherine's which had never left the spot. "Please Imi," he murmured, "Fight this, for us, for yourself." He paused, trying to overcome the tears which were making his voice shake. "We _need_ you to fight this."

"I'm going then," William murmered, bending down to give Catherine a light kiss of the top of her messy brown girls. She just mumbled in reply and stayed absolutely still, her eyes watching Imi for any sign of movement as her right hand clasped her daughter's in her own. It was such a sorry sight; William had never seen his wife so quiet and wretched before, but then he had never seen his daughter so still and vulnerable.

"Kate," Will repeated, more softly this time, "Kate I'm about to go out in public, I really need you to check I look decent before I make a fool of myself."

Catherine sighed and wearily turned to face her husband, half-heartedly taking in the black suit with it's thin stripes which clashed with the patterns on the equally dark tie. "You look fine," she lied, too weary to say anything else.

William reached down and smoothed out the crease in his trousers. Even if he couldn't do anything about his tiredness and stiffness on the inside, a result from spending three nights in the hosptial, at least he could try to make himself look presentable from the outside. He sighed, "I don't know how I'm going to do this, go to the funeral and not break down. Go and make polite conversation and make it seem like everything's OK."

Pausing for a moment to contemplate the seemingly mammoth task ahead oh him, William felt a flicker of incredulity as he realised Catherine hadn't heard a word he said. Here he was, going to the funeral of his daughter's best friend alone, because his wife couldn't face going with him, and yet she refused to listen to a word he was saying because she was too busy with her own thoughts. No, that's not fair, he told himself, watching Catherine with worried eyes. William remembered how she'd begged him to let her stay, scared to prise herself away from her daughter's bedside incase anything happened to her. Even going to the toilet worried her, causing her to practically run there so she could be back holding Imogen's hand as quickly as possible. In fact, noticed William concernedly, Catherine was looking paler, the bags under her eyes deeper and her face thinner.

"Kate sweetie," William whispered, gently reaching out to lift her face up to his, "Try to get some sleep while I'm gone."

Catherine shook her head, and mumbled something about not leaving Imi.

William sighed; he was running out of ideas of what to do; feeling himself fall into the trap of desperation. "At the very least promise me you'll eat something. Please, for me?" William asked, receiving a very slight inclination of the head. He sighed; this was another promise that was going to be broken. At least Carole was coming; she'd look after her daughter.

"Well goodbye darling. Make sure you look after yourself."

He leant down to give Catherine a kiss of the cheek, and feeling slightly guilty, she returned the gesture. "Good luck," she wished him, a small, encouraging smile escaping her lips.

The memory of that smile was what got William through the afternoon.

"Catherine, please, just go and get something to eat. I'll stay with Imogen and if anything changes I'll get you straight away.

Carole was standing next to her daughter, her hands on her hips and a worried crease in her forehead as she tried to persuade her to eat. After the original shock had passed, the shock of seeing her grandaughter lying so still, her usually radiant blonde hair just a tangled mess around her pale face with it's expression of pain, she had begun to notice how strangely her own daughter was behaving. Of course she was going to be distraught, and scared, and worried, but there was something unnerving about Catherine's unwavering dedication to Imi's bedside, the way she tensed at every single noise and tha hawk-like eyes which never left her daughter's face. What worried Carole more though, was the sense of emptiness around her, the hollowness of her eyes, the lost green sparkle of them and the rarely seen smile. The truth was, Carole had never seen her daughter like this, ever.

"Catherine, please," she repeated.

"No," Catherine replied, a slight determined key underlining her otherwise weak voice, "No, I'm staying with her mum. I want to be there when she wakes up," a slight pause in which she took a deep breath, "I'm not leaving her."

Trying her best not to shake her daughter into seeing sense, Carole took a deep breath and layed a hand on Kate's slim arm, "And what good is it going to do Imi if she wakes up to fnd her mother too drained and hungry to do anything? How is it going to help if you become ill too?"

Carole watched Catherine's face carefully, she could see her daughter wavering as her brain processed this idea, but then she glanced back over her daughter's body and the flashing machine it was attached to.

"I'm staying with Imi," came the simple and definite reply.

Bending down slowly, Carole wrapped her arms around her daughter. "It's going to be alright you know, we got through the first part, and we're going to get through this," she whispered comfortingly into Catherine's ear.

Catherine leant her head on her mum's shoulder and tried to bite back the inevitable tears. As she hugged her mother back, she felt just like a little child again; her mother had always known how to comfort her perfectly. "I just can't leave her mum. I feel so helpless, the least I can do is stay with her."

"Of course sweetie," Carole replied, running her hands over her daughter's curls before pulling out of the hug and cupping Catherine's face in her hands, now what about if I get you some food and bring it here?"

Looking up into her mum's eyes, Catherine gave a tired and thankful, but rewarding nonetheless, smile. After giving her a small kiss on the forehead, Carole got up and headed for the door whilst Catherine turned back to look at Imogen. Feeling more daring, Catherine reached out a finger and ran it down the side of Imi's face, feeling the heat radiating off it.

Imi groaned and her head jerked. Catherine's hand froz in mid-air. It wasn't she hadn't seen Imi move before, it was just…

"Daddy. Daddy. Daddy." Imogen's breath was raspy, her eyes flickering open and shut to reveal unfocused pupils as she twisted back and forth.

Catherine gasped and clutched her daughter's moving hand in her own. "Imi, Imi, it's alright. Daddy's not here, but I am. I'm here Imi."

"Daddy, I'm," the words stuck in Imi's throat, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry daddy."

Imi's body seemed to relax after she'd said that, as if a great weight had been lifted of her chest. Her breathing slowed and her eyelids closed, but she continued to whisper "daddy" over and over again, so quietly it was hard to tell she was doing anything more than breathing.

Catherine ran her hand over her daughter's burning forehead. "Shh darling, it's OK. You have nothing to be sorry for, nothing at all." The whipsers continued. "Daddy's not here right now, but I am. Mummy's here beautiful, and it's all going to be OK."

Imi's forehead creased as her distressed brain tried to take this in. "Mummy.," she muttered softly. Suddenly her eyes flew open, sparkling with panic. "Mummy, don't leave me. Don't leave me."

"I'm not going to. I'm not leaving. Imi, Imi it's OK, I'm staying here. I'm not leaving you Imi," Catherine cried, as she clutched desperately onto her daughter's hand, which she kept holding well after Imogen had slipped back beyond the boundaries of consciousness.

"Did she recognize you at all?" the frowning doctor, whom Carole had called, asked while he fiddled with the buttons on the beeping machine.

"N, not really," a shakey Catherine muttered.

"No, I wouldn't expect she would," he sighed, observing Imogen with a strained look on his face and holding his hand slightly above her forehead. He turned back to Catherine, who was clutching onto her mother, her green eyes showing her distress in an otherwise pale and colourless face. "Her temperature has risen again. It's even higher now. If this lasts much longer…" He tailed off and shook his head, consulting a graph he held in his hand.

Catherine's knuckles turned white as she clutched Carole's hand even tighter. "But she's going to be OK?"

The doctors' head jerked upwards. He shifted his clipboard to his other hand and stared right into Catherine's green eyes. "It coule be fatal."

The noise of the door banging open prevented anyone from hearing Catherine's sharp intake of breath, and as they all turned to see William enter they missed seeing her stumble backwards.

"What's happening?" a tired William exclaimed, immediately rushing over to catch his unstable wife in his strong arms. "Is she worse?"

"She spoke Will," Catherine whispered, folding her thin body into his chest and looking up at him with wide, inky pupils. "She spoke."

"What did she say?" William asked, his beath bated.

"She was calling for you," Catherine whispered from the safety of his chest, "She kept apologising, saying she was sorry." She glanced back up at William's face, trying to catch his eye, but he was too busy staring at his daughter's quivverring form.

"Catherine," he murmured, forcing his eyes away from Imogen and planting his hand gently on his wife's cheek, "Why don't you go and get some rest? I'll stay here now."

"No," Catherine replied, her voice so loud and her response so fast that William was startled. "I promised her I wouldn't leave her. I promised her."

"And now I'm here," William said gently.

Carole sensed William's mood, and moved from where she had been spectating to take her daughter's arm. "Come on Catherine, let William stay now. You can have some rest and then come straight back."

Catherine surrendered, her body too drained to put up any more of a fight as her mum led her gently from the room, the doctor following tactfully behind them.

Finally William was left alone with his daughter, gaining the privacy he craved. Bending down next to her bed, he ran his hand down her clammy arm. "Oh Imogen," he cried, "I'm so sorry. So, so sorry." He broke down and leant his head on her bedside, the tears floing freely from his eyes as he kept his hand on his daughter's arms. As his shoulders heaved up and down, William cried all the tears he had been holding in for the past few days. Eventually, after the tears had stopped flowing and his body stopped heaving, William lifted his head so he was looking straight into his daughter's face. With a shakey hand, he removed a strand of tangled hair from where it was plastered to her forehead.

"You have nothing to be sorry for Imi," he whispered, his voice gradually growing in confidence, "You never did anything wrong, never, not in my eyes. You are the perfect daughter, I'm just a terrible father." William could feel his eyes beginning to glisten again, so he quickly hurried on, "You didn't deserve any of what I said to you, any of it at all. I would never, ever want anyone else as my daughter. I don't care if you burn the whole school down or got expelled, I will always love you, and you will always be my daughter life would never be the same without." William bit down on his lip as he realised how this was in danger of becoming true. All the more reason to say this now, he thought, blinking back the tears and carrying on, "So it's me who should be saying sorry, because Imi, I have never been so sorry about anything in my entire life. I was so unfair to you, so unjust and cruel. Maybe if I'd have held my tongue, not taken your phone, not driven you away from me, then maybe we wouldn't be here now. At the very least I wouldn't have to suffer this incredible guilt which has been weighing down on me for days, knowing that I could have made one of the last days of your life a misery. Which is why Imi, I need you to pull through this. I need to see you smile, I need you to forgive me, although if you do it will be more than I deserve." He stared adoringly into her face, hope and love blurring the reality of the situation as he searched for some kind of an answer, "So what do you say Imi, will you do it, for me?"

There was no reply.

5 more days passed. 5 more days during which Catherine had refused to leave Imogen's bedside, forcing William to stay with her. 5 more days during which Imogen's temperature had come down, but she had barely moved. 5 more days during which the press had gone wild with stories and photographers had invaded the hospital, yet noone seemed to actually know what was going on.

Catherine and William were slouched against chairs in the hospital room which now felt like a second home to them. Lulling against each other, they occasionally broke the sleepy silence with snatches of trivial conversation.

"Do you think we're ignoring the other two too much?" Catherine asked, her eyelids drooping as she stifled a yawn.

"I think they understand," Will replied. "I mean, we've talked to them and they know if anything happened to them we'd react the same. And they're safe at school, there's no point disrupting them."

"Mmhmm," Catherine muttered back, "I just miss them, that's all."

A few more moments of silence passed.

"Your father really does love Imi, doesn't he," Catherine broke the silence.

William thought back over his father's concerned face, his constant trips to visit Imi and his devotion to her. "I think she's the daughter he always wanted," William responded, "Obviously he has Alice and Emma too, but Imi's his first granddaughter and nothing's going to change that. It's quite adorable to see."

Catherine was about to reply, but a quiet, pathetic little cough from the bed interrupted them. Glancing at William, she got up and turned to the bedside, her husband not far behind her. Imogen's eyes flickered. "Imogen?" Catherine asked hesitantly.

Imogen forced her eyes open, only to shut them again as the bright, white light blinded her, emitting a small groan as she did so. Kicking her legs, Imi felt a sharp pain shoot up her right side, causing her to gasp and her eyes to fly open. She waited for the pain to pass, but it didn't, and neither did the dull thudding in her head.

"Imogen?"

There it was again. A voice so familiar calling a name that seemed to belong to a lifetime ago. Still blinking, Imi tried to focus her eyes to focus. "Mummy?" She whispered, her throat feeling like sandpaper and her head like cotton wool.

"Oh Imi," Catherine cried through tears of relief, as she reached out to give her daughter a hug, "Oh Imi!"

Imogen flinched as her mother touched her shoulder, causing her to shy away from her and let out a whimper. Suddenly she was aware of every inch of her body. Aware of being kissed and hit and kicked. Aware of being insulted and abandoned and raped. Insults began to fly around her head. "Whore, Slut, Bitch, Worthless." Why was she alive? Why was she here? She deserved to be dead. Dead as the pathetic excuse for a human she was, a human who couldn't protect herself, who let others do horrible things to her body. Imogen was torturing herself with her own thoughts, so that she wasn't even aware of the cries of terror being uttered by her own mouth, wasn't aware of the way she was clutching at her mattered hair whilst her parents looked at each other in panic.

"It's over Imi, it's over. You're safe now, you're not there anymore. "

What was over? How could it be over? It was her life, practically all she could remember, one long cycle of pain and torment.

"It's over Imi, it's going to be OK, we're here and we'll make it all go away."

"Please, please. Make it stop." Somewhere in her brain she was aware it was her who was pleading, pleading for it all to end, pleading for everything to be normal.

"Yes Imi, Imi we will. Open your eyes Imi, look, you're fine now. You're safe." The voice kept talking, and this time when a small, slender hand touched her own, Imi didn't shy away but clutched it back. As her body shook and her breaths quickened, she suddenly found herself gasping for air.

"Deep breaths, breathe deeply Imi. Imi it's OK. Imi, can you hear me?"

Deep breaths, Imi thought. As her breathing deepened, shakey tears began to fall down her face until eventually she was lying perfectly quiet and still, except for the drops of moisture which continued to stream down her face.

"Imogen? Imogen look at me."

She was aware of her hand being tugged. Taking one last, deep breath, Imi opened her eyes and untangled herself from the ball she had curled into.

"Mummy?" she whispered again, her eyes focusing this time on the anxious face and the long brown curls.

"Yes darling," Catherine whispered back. "It's me. You're with me and daddy now."

Imi felt her hand being squeezed reassuringly. Her mummy was here, it was all going to be OK. She felt a small smile appear on her face as she let herself relax back into the bed. But this wasn't her usual bed, it felt different. "Where, where am I?" She used all her energy to force the words out.

"In hospital sweetie. You, you weren't very well, so they brought you here." Catherine allowed herself a weak smile as she leant to straighten a pillow, "In fact, we were quite worried about you for a bit."

Worried about her? That's nice, Imi thought. Suddenly a though popped into her head, one she had been pushing down for days. Imi tried to sit up, but her body collapsed due to her lack of energy. "T,tt."

"Stay still Imi, don't try and move just yet. Just stay still and relax, yes?"

No, they didn't understand, Imi wanted to cry out as she struggled to speak her thoughts. "Taz," she finally managed to say, although her voice was weak and raspy, "What happened to Taz?"

Catherine shot a guilty look at William, who took a deep breath and leant down to speak to Imi. "Taz is dead Imi, she was killed." He spoke very clearly and slowly so Imogen could process what he was saying. There was no point in lying, he had decided.

Imi shut her eyes, as if trying to block out the truth. "They said she was," she murmured so quietly that only Catherine could hear, her head just inches away from Imi's.

"Who did?" Catherine asked quietly, softly probing for information

Imogen opened her eyes again, revealing dull blue orbs which lacked their usual sparkle and begged relief from their exhaustion. "Oh mummy," she whispered, as her body began to shivver and her face crinkled up.

"It's OK Imogen, mummy's here, and she's never leaving you again." Very carefully, so as not to tangle any of the wires and tubes, Catherine wrapped her arms around her daughter's limp body, and rocked her back and forth until she fell into a fitful sleep.


	5. Chapter 5

"Are you alright if I just take a few tests?" The doctor asked Imogen gently.

She had just woken up again, her doting parents still by her bedside. Imi nodded her head gently, her face too sore to warrant any more movement.

The doctor gave her a small smile, and reached over his hand to pat her reassuringly on her shoulder as he reached for his equipment. As soon as his skin made contact with her own, Imi let out a small cry and fell back into the pillows which were propping her up, her legs kicking out as in a state of panic she strived to put as big a distance as possible between herself and the man who had touched her.

"Imi, Imi it's Ok," her mother tried to calm her down, grabbing her hand as she tried to reassure her.

Imogen just cried again, even louder this time, as she tugged her hand away and used it to cover her face. In her mind she was reliving the nightmare that had been reality for her; being slapped across the face over and over as the clothes were literally ripped off her body. Then being shoved down onto the bed, the excruciating pain as a glint of metal met the skin above her ribs, pulling her out of the painless daze she had fallen into and making her scream out in agony as the blows continued to fall, and her own blood, warm and fresh, began to ooze over her skin. And then…

Someone was touching her again, gripping her shoulders tightly with their hands. They were saying something, but Imogen couldn't focus on it, she was concentrating on not screaming again, on not reliving the horror. Slowly, she managed to stop the sobs and control the shaking, and she found herself clinging onto her dad's body, his hands having moved from her shoulders to bring her into a tight hug. William still had no idea what his daughter had been through, and no idea what was tormenting her now, but he knew she needed him.

"It's over. It's all over now. You're safe now and you're never going back," he whispered into her ear, trying to keep his voice confident and reassuring as he gently rubbed his hand over her back.

Imogen lifted her head slightly from where it had been buried into his shoulder, "Promise?" Her voice came out less than a whisper, a faint ghost of what it had been before.

He pulled back and looked straight into her eyes. "Of course," He assured her, "I'm here now, and I'm never losing you again." His voice was strong, and his eyes burned with a fierce passion in what he was saying. He rubbed his thumb along the shoulder he was holding. "Now how about we let the doctor check you out, yeah? We want to get you better."

Imi gave him a small, sheepish smile, and turned slightly to face the doctor, who was sitting rather awkwardly next to the bed trying to act as if he hadn't been listening.

"Are you OK for me to change your dressing?" he asked.

Imi nodded slightly and clutched onto her father's hand. She didn't particularly want to watch, so she stared up at the ceiling. Grasping her dad's hand tighter, Imi gasped as the bandages were taken off, just the slightest pressure on her bruised and broken ribs causing her to call out in pain. "I'm sorry," the doctor muttered, "I'm trying to do this as gently as I can, but it is likely to hurt a bit, you have at least two broken ribs."  
>Imogen didn't reply, but instead concentrated on gripping William's hand to prevent herself from crying. And William was gripping her hand back, not for reassurance, although he wanted to give her that, but because he was shocked by the sight he was seeing. A large, red gash ran across Imogen's right ribs, tight stitches pulling together the two sides of bruised and battered purple flesh. William shut his eyes against the image, and by the time he opened them again the torn flesh had disappeared to be replaced by fresh white bandages.<p>

"All done," the doctor exclaimed in a fake cheery voice.

William couldn't bear to meet his eyes. How could someone do this to his daughter? Put a knife to her without reason and beat her black and blue? He felt his emotions building up inside of him, his anger and sorrow and protectiveness pushing down on him and threatening to overwhelm him. If he ever got anywhere near those people…

A familiar hand on his arm brought him out of his feelings, Catherine's hand, a warning portrayed through a simple movement. Using every last ounce of self-restraint he owned, Will pushed his thoughts to one side and concentrated on his daughter.

"Now we want to take you off the drip tomorrow, with your permission," at this the doctor met William's eyes, receiving a small nod, "But you'll need to start eating straight away to build your strength back up. Can you manage that?"

The thought of food repulsed Imi at that moment, but she nodded anyway; anything to get that creepy tube removed from her.

The doctor gave her a patronising smile and stood up to leave the room, just as William's assistant stuck his head through the door and announced he was needed outside. William sighed and, planting a small kiss on his wife's forehead, left her and Imi alone together.

Catherine studied her daughter's face closely, her eyes passing the purple bruises and scratches before settling on the deep bags beneath her closed eyes which told of severe tiredness. Very carefully, so as not to startle Imi, Catherine stood up. "Imi?" she whispered quietly, gesturing to the bed as Imi turned her blue eyes onto her. Imi smiled and tried to shift her body, but gave up as Catherine easily folded her slender frame onto the small space left on the bed and wrapped her arm around her daughter. Feeling safe in her mother's arms, Imi lowered her head onto Catherine's shoulder and left it there. Neither of them moved or spoke for quite a few minutes, each brought indescribable comfort by the other's presence.

"Mum?" Imi enquired, her voice, weak and raspy, breaking the silence.

"Yes darling," Catherine responded, as she twirled a strand of her daughter's newly-brushed hair around her finger.

"What day is it?"

"The 8th of June," Catherine replied, trying to hide the surprise from her voice. But then, she reasoned, how was Imi supposed to know the date? "Any reason why?" She continued, puzzled by the crease which had appeared in her daughter's forehead.

"I just wondered," Imi mumbled. "Mum," she started suddenly, "What about my exams?"

Catherine sighed inwardly, they'd been wondering themselves what was going to happen about Imogen's GCSEs, of which she had already missed the majority, and there was no way she was going to sit the remaining ones in this state. "Now don't worry about them. You just won't be taking them this summer, that's all. The school will sort something out. All you need to do now is rest and get better." Catherine's voice was firm, and she laid her hand on Imi's shoulder.

"But what if," Imi attempted to protest.

"Imi, your Grandad is the King, do you really think this won't be sorted out? That it would affect your future or people wouldn't understand? Just rest sweetheart, rest and get better, that's all anyone is asking you to do."

Catherine was relieved to feel Imi relax next to her, laying her head back on her shoulder. "How mad is it out there?" Imogen whispered, the tiredness in her feeble voice reflecting the sheer exhaustion she was feeling. She didn't need to tell Catherine what she was referring to; the constant media battle which surrounded their lives was too heavy to be ignored.

"Pretty mad," Catherine admitted, stroking her daughter's arm as she did so. Not wanting to elaborate, she quickly changed the subject. "I never got to wish you a happy birthday," she murmured, choking back the tears, "So happy belated 16th darling, I promise we'll celebrate as soon as we get you home."

"No." Imi shrieked immediately.

"No what?" A bemused Catherine asked her daughter gently, "I promise it will be good. I have something special for you."

"I don't want a birthday, I want to forget I ever turned 16," Imi cried, struggling in her mother's arms as she desperately tried to get her point across.

"Ok sweetie, if you don't want to, we won't, I promise," Catherine tried urgently to calm her daughter down, panicking at the way Imogen had once again set off at the smallest thing, "We don't have to celebrate, but why not? Can you just tell me why not?"

Why not? Imogen screamed inside her head. Why not? Because on her birthday she had woken up lying nearly naked on the bed from where she had had no energy or will to move from the night before, because she had woken up to find someone leaning over her and a face thrust into her own, because she had woken up and heard 'Happy Birthday _your royal highness, _I have some great news, it's now legal for you to be the little slut you are.' Because her birthday had been a day in hell. Imogen's whole body was quivering again, the muscles acting by themselves out of the control of her brain.

Catherine pulled a shaking Imogen closer into her chest in an all-to-familiar situation. She didn't know what to do apart from wait for it to be over. She saw her daughter's lips move, and bent her head down to hear.

"I'm not a slut, am I?" The words were whispered, something Imogen would never dreamed of saying in front of her mum in her right mind, but she was desperate now, fighting a losing battle with the voice inside her head.

Catherine shook herself, had her daughter just said that? What on earth could possess her to think such a thing?

"Am I?" Imi hiccoughed, her voice louder this time as she frantically searched for an answer.

Catherine removed her hands from around Imogen's body and place them either side of her daughter's face, so that she was staring right at her. "No, no you are not," she said forcefully, staring into Imi's dull eyes, looking for some sign of recognition, "No matter what anyone has said to you, you are not," Catherine took a deep breath, she couldn't believe this was happening, "You are not a slut. And anyone who has told you differently is lying." With relief she realised Imi was staring back at her. She had stopped shaking and was giving her full attention, but Catherine could tell she still hadn't convinced her. The words of the doctor, the first time they had seen Imi after it all, drifted into her head. She took a deep breath; she knew what she needed to say. "And no matter what anyone has done or said to you, it doesn't make it true. If someone forced you to have sex, well that's rape Imi, and that doesn't make you a slut, that makes you an incredibly strong and brave person to have got through that and kept going."

Catherine wiped away a lone tear which fell from Imi's eyes with her thumb.

"So I'm not a bitch either?" Imi whispered through slightly parted lips, as she held her mother's gaze with eyes that showed the first signs of emotion Catherine had seen in days.

Catherine tightened her grip on her daughter, being careful to avoid touching any of the bruising which decorated her face. "No, you are definitely not a bitch either. You are an amazing girl Imi, please, never forget that."

Catherine opened her arms as Imi fell into them. As she held her daughter close to her, she felt a sense of achievement that at least one thing had been sorted out; there was a long way to go, but at least they had started.

"Can you tell me about it Imi? What happened?" Catherine asked, bending her head down so her lips brushed the top of her daughter's head.

"No," Imi mumbled into her mother's navy top, "I can't…" Imi stopped midsentence, how was she supposed to explain that she couldn't bear to relive what she'd been through, that she couldn't think about those days without having some kind of living nightmare, and that she had no idea how to put into words what she'd been through?

"That's fine darling," her mother murmured, "We'll just take it one step at a time."

And Catherine meant it. As she felt her daughter go limp in her arms, signalling she had found the sleep her body so desperately needed, Catherine closed her eyes and leant her chin on Imi's thick, blonde hair and tried to imagine even half of what her daughter was going through.

At that moment William walked back through the doors, the irritated frown on his forehead disappearing as soon as his eyes fell on the sight of his two precious girls huddled together. He quickly wiped the soppy smile of his face when Catherine opened her eyes and met his, giving her an understanding grin instead when she lifted her finger to her lips.

William crept across the room and perched on the edge of the bed. "Have fun while I was gone?" he whispered.

Catherine glanced down at the sleeping bundle in her arms, "Something like that," she replied, running a hand through Imogen's hair, "What about you?"

William sighed and ran a hand across his nearly-bald head. Checking Imi was fast asleep first, he muttered to Catherine, "The police want to talk to Imogen already, I tried to tell them she wasn't ready, but they're insisting, saying there's some stuff they need to know," William sighed again, wishing he had some hair he could clutch onto in his anxiety.

"When do they want to talk to her?" Catherine murmured, keeping her arms wrapped tightly around Imogen as she remembered the words she had spoken just a few moments earlier. If Imogen could barely face telling her about it, how was she going to cope talking to a stranger?

"Soon," William whispered back, "But the officer who wants to talk to her is talking to dad first about some security stuff."

"I'm not waking her," Kate said fiercely whilst still keeping her voice low, "She needs to sleep, bless her."

William reached out and clutched one of Imogen's hands, "I won't let them disturb her, and I'm not leaving her side."

Imogen awoke and wriggled out of her mother's arms. Glancing at both of her parents' faces, she realised they were both asleep. She sighed and leant back against the headboard of the bed she was fast becoming fed up of. Tracing a deep scratch on her right hand, Imogen tried to block out the usual thoughts that tormented her, instead focusing on herself right now. She felt like such a baby, crying and shaking and clinging on to her parents all the time, but she couldn't control it; she needed them. What could they think of her? She knew her mum had said she was brave and everything, but that didn't affect the fact that she seemed incapable of holding a conversation without breaking down. And what about dad, Imi thought as she stared at his slumped figure, could he really believe she was 16 when she was unable of keeping herself together? Imogen felt the familiar wave of self-misery sweeping over her again, but this time she was determined not to let it get hold of her. So she made a pact with herself right there and then that she was going to be strong today, no matter what she had been through; her mother had told her she was strong, and she was going to prove it.

William stirred and, blinking against the harsh, white lighting of the room, realised he'd fallen asleep in the chair. He raised his eyes and saw Imogen staring at him, a puzzling look on her face. William gave her a sheepish grin and stood up, trying to smooth down his crumpled jeans which were sticking to him rather uncomfortably. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed his assistant signalling to him from the door. Making a mock show out of it, he raised his eyebrows at Imi and pulled a stupid face, gaining him a small smirk back. "Katie," he whispered into his wife's ears, gently shaking the shoulders of her sleeping body, "It's time to wake up."

Catherine stirred, momentarily confused by why she was lying in a white bed in what appeared to be the middle of the afternoon. "The police want to talk to me, can you prepare Imi?" William whispered in her ear, giving her a small kiss as he did so, "And look after your mother for me," he joked to Imi.

Leaving his girls behind, William crept out the door to be met by an official party of two policemen, his father and his personal assistant. "Yes?" William enquired, not bothering to hide the frustration in his voice.

"May I have a word with you, your highness?" One of the policemen asked, signalling to the corner of the room where some chairs were. William followed him, "If you don't mind, I'd rather stand," he interjected.

"Of course," the officer replied.

William was already in an annoyed mood, and even something so small the officer's professionalism was beginning to rile him up. "I assume you want to speak with my daughter now?" he asked, the sharp edge to his voice startling the officer slightly.

"That would be correct. I understand it must be hard, but there's some things we really need to know and only she could possibly know the answers. We promise to keep it as brief as possible."

Maybe he was being unfair, William thought, after all, they were all on the same side. But he couldn't resist having one last try, "And it couldn't wait?"

He knew the answer before he heard it.

"I am afraid not, we have postponed it as long as possible, we do have your family's best interests at heart."

William sighed and inclined his head slightly to show that he did understand and was thankful, although behind his back he was wringing his hands together tightly. "And what have you found out so far?" he asked quietly, as though nervous of the answer.

"Well," the officer began hesitantly, he was pretty sure he wasn't supposed to be giving this information out, but then this was the Prince of Wales he was talking to, "We've arrested the 5 men we found there, and they've given some pretty startling confessions, enough to easily convict them," He looked at wall behind William, trying in his mind to skip the rude and blunt confessions of the men, the madness in their eyes as they talked of abuse they had carried out and their lack of regrets.

"And," William prompted him, worried by the man's refusal to meet his eyes.

The officer shook himself, now was not the time. He hurried on a bit, "We're trying to work out why they would do it, as we received no ransom notes or any such thing. In fact, the evidence is leading to suggest it was done out of insanity."

William closed his eyes briefly, trying not to dwell on the idea of his daughter being in the hands of such people. He knew this could mean a shorter sentence for the men when it came to it, and nothing angered him more; he wanted to see the people who had put his daughter and family through such hell locked up, for good.

"We just need some clarification from your daughter, for example, we want to make sure we have all the people involved."

William nodded again, and reluctantly opened his eyes. "When you say we?" He stopped midsentence.

The officer picked up his mood, "I speak on behalf of the force, if you would like I can attend the interview alone."

"Yes, I think that would be best," William replied, resigning himself to the fact this was going to happen, "My wife and I would like to stay with my daughter too."

The officer nodded, seeing that if he didn't accept then the meeting as unlikely to happen at all.

William guided him to the door, and then paused with his hand resting on the handle. "Please be very gentle with her, she gets upset easily. And try to be as quick as possible."

"Of course," the officer replied, beginning to feel slightly nervous.

William stuck his head in through the door, and looked straight at Catherine who gave him a small, confirming nod. He then shifted his glance to Imi, who was sitting up in bed, a weary expression on her face.

"Are you OK to do this?" he asked gently.

"Yes," she whispered back, giving her dad a small smile.

The officer followed William into the room, shaking Catherine's hand before sitting down and giving Imogen a, what he hoped was reassuring, smile. He was slightly surprised to see a look of relief on her face; ever since her mother had told her a police officer wanted to talk to her she had been petrified it was going to be the one who had found her, and Imogen was glad to see she wasn't going to have to face him again.

"Your Royal Highness," he started, but stopped as he saw Imi's eyes close and her face screw up.

'YOUR FUCKING LITTLE HIGHNESS,' the words were replaying over and over in Imi's head. No Imi, NO, her own brain screamed back, not now, not now. Imi forced her eyes open and gave what she hoped was an apologetic smile, but she was afraid might look more like a grimace.

The officer gave an unsure smile back, and, turning the recoreder on, hesitantly started talking. "Now I just have a few questions to ask, and I just need you to try and tell me as much as you can," the officer looked at Imi, who nodded to show her understanding, "And if at any point it gets too much and you want me to stop, just tell me, OK?"

"Yes," Imogen responded, trying hard to keep her voice louder than the insecure whisper it wanted to be.

Catherine's hand found William's as they listened to the questions and answers. Catherine pretended to herself that she was only grabbing her husband's hand to stop him interrupting, but deep down she knew it was because she needed his support as she heard her daughter tell the little she could remember of before she was kidnapped and that yes, there were only 5 men she could think of.

"And these 5 men, did they ever mention any plans, or why they had kidnapped you?"

Imi's brow knotted together as she searched for a piece of information she knew she possessed somewhere. "They said something about waiting longer, so that everyone would be more scared and would pay more."

William glanced at his wife and sent up a prayer of thanks that it had never come to that.

The officer nodded and wrote something down, before carrying on hesitantly, "And how did the men treat you?" There was an awkward silence, in which he realised he had left the question too open ended. "Did they physically assault you? Hit you or anything?" The officer could see shadow of the few bruises left on Imogen's face, but he felt he had to ask anyway.

"Yes," Imi murmured, closing her eyes as she tried her hardest not to remember. She felt her mother's hand slip into hers.

"And what about sexually, did they make any advances on you?" The officer spoke more slowly now, "Did they sexually abuse you?"

"Yes." Imogen's voice was even quieter this time.

"All of them?"

"Apart from one," Imogen felt her hand being squeezed tighter, "The tall one with dark hair," she answered, guessing the question the officer had been about to ask.

"So what did he do?"

"He just shouted stuff," Imogen murmured, putting so much of her concentration into trying to forget and not breaking down that she didn't even register any of the officer's goodbyes or thanks. In fact, she didn't really register anything at all until she felt the familiar warmth of her mum wrapping her arms around her.

"I'm so proud of you," Catherine whispered into her ear, "So, so proud."

Imogen pushed the pasta around on her plate, before prodding a single shell and raising it limply to her mouth. However, it never got there, instead being returned weakly to her plate.

"Imogen, _please_ eat some more." The strain in Catherine's voice was evident as she begged her daughter to eat, it was almost 24 hours since Imi had been taken off the drip and she had barely eaten at all. Catherine was at her wits end, she just didn't know what to do any more. "Just eat a bit more, for me."

Imogen swallowed deeply and looked down at the food which repulsed her so much, she couldn't eat it, she just couldn't. But then she glanced up and saw her mother's face, so worried and stressed, the green eyes pleading her to eat. Very slowly she lifted the fork, pasta shell still intact, to her lips. It felt like chewing cardboard. Imi tried to swallow, to get it over with as quickly as possible, but she couldn't. Instead, she suddenly found herself gagging, the lumps of food heavy in her throat and causing her to choke. Catherine reached out to pat her back, but thought better of touching her daughter with warning, experience from the last two days showing her what the outcome would be. Overcoming the battle with the pasta, Imogen glanced back down at her plate and pushed it away, turning her head away as just looking at it made her feel queasy. She didn't want a repeat of yesterday; throwing up after just a couple of mouthfuls of food, retching into a bowl until there was nothing left in her stomach.

"Oh Imi, _please _eat a bit more," Catherine's voice was growing in volume, and anxiety clouded her mind so she wasn't even aware of the way she made Imi jump.

"I'm just not hungry," Imi whispered quietly. Even to her it sounded feeble and lame, but what else could she say? It was the truth; even the thought of food made her stomach turn over. She knew the doctors had said it was normal, that lying in bed all day was hardly likely to make her need energy and that her appetite would come back, but at that moment she never wanted to eat again.

Catherine felt like screaming as she picked up Imogen's still-full plate. 'Small portions,' the doctor had said, but how could 3 shells count as a small portion for a hamster, let alone her daughter. How on earth was she going to get better at this rate? Imogen needed energy, she needed it desperately, yesterday she had barely even stood up, let alone walked, before she had collapsed into her father's arms. The hospital were never going to let her leave at this rate. Catherine could feel the frustrastion building up inside of her, all she wanted was to take her daughter home and never have to visit this fated place again, was that really too much to ask? She turned to see tears leaking from her daughter's eyes.

"Oh God, don't cry again." The words were out her mouth before she realised what she was saying. Immediately she wanted to take them back, but instead she stood there motionless as more tears began to roll down Imogen's face. She slammed the plate down on the bedside table, not caring now that Imogen was now a shaking wreck beside her, "I can't do this anymore, I just can't do it," she almost screamed, storming out the room with tears of frustration pouring down her face and past William and Alex who were standing outside.

"Kate, wait," William cried, running off after her and leaving his eldest son alone.

Alex stared after them hopelessly, completely confused by the spectacle he had just witnessed. He was aware of a small sobbing noise coming from behind the door. Taking a deep breath, he pushed it open. "Oh Gosh, Imi," he cried, running over to his little sister who was shaking and crying, her knees drawn up to her chin. "Imi, what's wrong?" He asked, kneeling down by her bedside.

When she lifted her face Alex was shocked by the paleness which acted only to emphasise the deep bags which lined her eyes. Obviously when he'd told his father he wanted to visit his little sister he'd been told what to expect, but nothing could compare to actually seeing her like this, his intelligent, beautiful, energetic and charming little sister, the one who he was usually so jealous of, reduced to nothing more than a quivering heap of pale skin stretched over what little flesh and bones she had left.

"Alex?" Imogen asked, her voice was quiet and shaky.

"That's right," Alex smiled at her, taking her hand in his.

"How come you're here?" Imogen looked slightly bewildered and lost, but she'd stopped crying, Alex noted.

"Well my A levels have finished, and I wanted to visit my sister," Alex explained, smiling at Imi and receiving a smile back.

"Did they go well?" Imi asked, her voice now steady and recognisably louder than it had been in the last few days.

"I think so, although I won't have done as well as you would," he joked, squeezing her hand, "But I only need Bs and Cs so I think I've done alright."

Imogen smiled at him, "That's good," she responded, wiping away the dampness which had settled on her face, "Sorry for being so pathetic on you."

"Who said you were being pathetic?" Alex asked.

"I just feel it," Imi responded quietly, causing a silence to fall between them.

"I've been so scared about you. Everyone would be asking me how you were and I honestly didn't know what to say," Alex paused and looked at Imi through his equally blue eyes, the only feature they shared, "I'm so glad you're alright."

Imi studied him for a few seconds, taking in the sincerity of his tanned face, "When did you turn so nice?" She laughed.

"When I realised I could lose my sister," came the simple reply.


	6. Chapter 6

"Kate," William cried as he ran after his wife, grabbing her by the hand as he did so, "What on earth's happened?"

Catherine span round and pulled her hand forcefully out of William's, "I just want to get out of this bloody hospital, and now," she screamed back, not caring whether anyone could hear her.

"Kate," William shouted again, grabbing her by the shoulders and holding her back as she tried to get to the door.

"Let me go," she screamed through the tears, trying to wriggle her body free against William's firm grasp, "I just want to get outside. I just want to get out."

"Kate, if you go out that door you're just going to run into a bunch of photographers, who I'm sure would more than love to get a picture of you in tears." William's voice was calm and steady, but his iron grip was still tight on Catherine's shoulders.

Catherine let out a scream of frustration and fell backwards into his arms, her fists tightly curled and pointlessly hitting his firm chest. "Can't they leave us alone, just this once?" She asked angrily.

William sighed and wrapped his arms around her, "I think we both know the answer to that. Now," he muttered, lifting her head up with his hand so that she was looking straight at him, "Will you please tell me what this is all about?"

"I'm just fed up," Catherine stated angrily, "Fed up of this place, fed up of doing nothing, fed up of being in the same room, I'm even becoming fed up of my own daughter. Gosh," she cried, "I'm such a horrible person."

"No you're not," William responded immediately, running a hand through Catherine's hair like her always did to calm her down, "You're just tired and stressed from being an amazing mother all week, that's all."

Catherine sighed and leant her head on his chest, placing her hands behind his neck.

"Why don't you go home sweetie? Go home and have someone make you something to eat, have a nice bath and sleep in your own bed for a night."

"I can't," Catherine muttered, her voice varying in pitch as she tried to stop the tears from flowing again, "I've got to be with Imi. Oh fuck Will," she swore suddenly, pulling back, "I left her crying. Oh God, what've I done?"

"Hey, hey, hey," William protested, "Calm down, I'm sure it's not that bad."

"I shouted at her, made her cry and stormed out of the room, she's probably having a fit right now, Oh God, what've I done, I'm such a shit mother." Catherine had started walking up and down as she clutched at her hair; heading in the direction of where Imi was, then turning back as she thought better of it.

A small crease had appeared in William's forehead, "Kate just go home, I'll go find Imi now and you can come back when you feel better."

"But…"

William was worried now, his mind imagining the state Imi was in while he became increasingly frustrated with his wife. "You're no good to anyone in this state, please just go home and rest," William sighed and took Catherine by the shoulders, "I don't care if you're her mother or not, but you're not going to help anyone when you're this tired. I'll stay here and ring you in the morning, OK?"

Too tired to put up a fight, and with the thought of a night in her own bed tempting her, Catherine gave in and nodded weakly. William pulled her in for a quick hug, and gave her a small kiss on the lips in goodbye, before hurrying towards where he had left Alex. William suddenly felt guilty for abandoning his elder son; if Imi had panicked he wasn't sure Alex could cope. Imi had refused to have any visitors, so what if she didn't want to see Alex and that made her panic? And if Imi _had_ panicked, Oh God, thought William, what have you done Kate?

However, as soon as he opened the door he realised all his worries were for nothing. William was shocked to see his two children leant over an iPad, a smile on both of their faces, even Imi's. As she glanced up at her father, Imi's smile wavered, a look of worry passing over her face.

"You OK?" William asked her casually, as he walked over and stood next to them both.

"Yeah," Imi sighed, glancing at Alex and giving him a grateful smile as she did so.

"I sent your mother home, she's exhausted and very sorry for what she said earlier," William said, bending down as he tried to peer at the screen to see what they were doing. In actual fact, he had no idea what Catherine had said, but he felt his daughter was owed some type of explanation.

Imi felt a familiar sense of dread and uselessness creep up on her, "It's not her fault, I…" she began, trying for once to put her thoughts into words, but she was cut off by an excited William.

"Oh my gosh, you're playing Angry Birds!" he exclaimed eagerly, perching on the side of the bed, "I love this game."

"Really?" Imogen asked through bated breath.

"Yes really."

"You mean it? Finally I can…"

"Yes I mean it."

Catherine laughed as her daughter threw her arms around her neck, and clung onto her. "You're coming home Imi," she said excitedly. Finally, after over a fortnight in hospital and almost a month after her daughter had gone missing, she was getting her back properly.

Imogen moved a piece of hair out of her eye where it had fallen, and Catherine saw the glint of tears there.

"Are you alright?" she whispered gently, realising that she probably shouldn't have overexcited her daughter that much. Even though she was going home she was still very weak, and they had strict instructions to keep her well-rested and to try and get her to eat as much as possible. In fact, she shouldn't really be going home at all, but Catherine and William had begged and begged until eventually the hospital had given in.

"I'm fine, happy, that's all." Imogen gave a weak smile and leant back on the bed, "How long until I can go home?"

"I don't know sweetie, soon. Dad's just finalising some stuff, are you OK if I go now and get everything ready for you?"

Imogen nodded slightly, smiling slightly as her mum gave her a kiss on the forehead and left her. I'm going home, she thought, no more of this place and the awful memories it held. Imi shuddered involuntarily; she was pretending that when she got home everything would be normal again, but she knew in reality it was going to be far from that.

"You ready to go then?" William walked in.

"Of course," Imi lied, trying to hide her nervousness.

Pretending not to hear the shakiness in her voice, William walked over to her bed and offered her a hand, "Are you OK to wallk?" He asked hesitantly.

Imogen nodded and took his hand, but before standing up she looked at him with large eyes and whispered, "There aren't going to be press are there?"

William could hear the fear in her voice, see it in the way her hand shook slightly as he helped her to her feet. He wrapped his arm around her, "No darling, there won't be any cameras and we're going the long way to avoid driving through London, and we'll have blacked out windows anyway. They're not going to get anywhere near you." William anxiously led a shaking Imi to the car, wishing with all his might that when security had promised this they had been right.

Everything went without a hitch and they drove out of the hospital without seeing a single photographer. Security must have done their job well, or used a good bribe, William thought, because with two protection cars accompanying them they were hardly unnoticeable. In fact, in all areas of royal life security has been increased since the incident, as more and more questions were asked of how on earth the kidnappers could have got close to Imi, let alone actually kidnap her.

William shut his eyes; this was surreal, he still struggled to believe it had actually happened. His daughter, his own daughter; he couldn't even protect his own daughter. As William glanced at her figure, thin and pale, huddled against the door, he had a sudden flashback of her at the film premier. It seemed a lifetime ago, when in reality it was barely more than a few weeks. William couldn't believe it, just a few weeks ago she had been standing in front of a crowds of photographers, smiling in a knee-length light pink dress which clung to her tall and healthy figure, her blonde hair shining as it lay straightened either side of her naturally blushed and radiant face. Was this the same girl as the pitiful daughter who lay next to him, the hands her head rested in little more than bones and flesh, her body slumped, its energy supply exhausted from just walking to the car? Had he brought her home too early, William worried, as she had still barely eaten, and it was only sheer determination which had made her swallow down two pieces of bread that morning. The doctors had advised against it, saying she required closer monitoring, so what had made him push it through, say he could look after her from home? It was little more than his own selfish desire to have his little girl back with him, he admitted to himself.

A sigh from Imogen brought him back to reality, and he turned to see her body began to quiver. "Oh Imi," he murmured, unclipping his seatbelt and sliding into the middle seat so he could put his arm around her.

"Oh shit, no," he screamed at himself as soon as him arm touched her back. Imogen let out a cry as soon as the two bodies made contact and backed even further against the door, drawing up her knees as she began to rock herself back and forth, ignoring the restraints of the seatbelt which began to dig into her neck, leaving deep red marks. Imogen welcomed the pain, as it was the only thing stopping her from falling completely back into the nightmare which was her being back in that room.

William sat there hopelessly, aware of the concerned eyes of the driver watching him through the wingmirror. He was scared, scared by the intensity of Imogen's phases, as he thought of them, the original crying and screaming replaced by an eerie silence during which her body would shake as it folded in upon itself. "Imogen," he murmured hopelessly, "Imi?"

Imogen turned her head to the source of the noise, her eyes wild within her contorted face as her father's figure merged with one of her capturer's, causing her to utter a small cry of terror. "Imogen, it's daddy, it's daddy darling, I want to make it better, can you let me?"

"Daddy?" Imogen repeated, coming back to reality with a thump, an overwhelming urge to be sick coming over her. "Daddy I feel sick!" Her voice had turned from lost and weak to stressed and urgent in just a matter of seconds.

William turned to the driver, who had already heard and stopped the car and was now muttering into his headpiece.

"Is that better?" he asked, laying a hand on her arm, gently this time.

William heard something about fresh air, and leant over Imogen to push open the door. Immediately she jumped out and took a couple of deep breaths of air, before collapsing to her knees and retching into the grassy side. William clambered out after her and quickly glanced around him, noting thankfully that they really had taken a route that took them through the middle of nowhere. Ignoring the security guards stepping out of the cars around him, William knelt down and swept up his daughter's hair as she was sick again, and again. He whispered soothing words into her ear until eventually she sat up again, her eyes teary because of the acid which burned her throat.  
>Ignoring the slight smell of sick, William very carefully brought her into his arms. "Are you OK?" he whispered, "What on earth caused that?"<p>

Imogen shook her head and clung onto her dad's shirt. "I'm scared," she whispered eventually.

"Why?" Her father asked concernedly, "You were doing so well."

She took a deep breath and continued in a trembling voice, "I'm scared I'm going to go home and not get better. I'm scared of facing up to people. I'm scare of what they're going to say."

"Imi, if you are ever going to listen to anything I say, make it this," William whispered into her ear, holding onto her tightly, "It's not going to be easy, but you don't have to get through it alone, I'm going to be with you every step of the way, just like your mother is. And we know you can do it Imi, we know you're going to get through this and make us proud, because you're a Windsor sweetie, and that's what we do."

Imogen nodded gently and stayed clinging onto her father, her tears turning patches of his blue shirt dark navy. William hugged her back, and glanced up to see his assistant offering him a bottle of water. He took it gratefully; these people really do think of everything. He handed the bottle to Imi, who took a few sips and gave William a queasy smile.

"Now how about we get you home?" he asked.

Catherine smiled at her daughter as she walked through the door; if she was worried by the even paler skin, the way she was leaning heavily on her father and the sorrowful expression on her daughter's face, then she didn't show it. Instead, she gathered Imi up in her arms, only then allowing herself to glance up into her husband's face, receiving an 'I'll tell you later' look in return. "Welcome home darling!" Catherine exclaimed, the cheery tone in her voice not forced for once, "What do you want to do?"

Imogen paused for a second, and glanced around the hallway. "Can I go to my room, there's something…"

Her voice trailed off, and William noted the look of apprehension she gave the stairs. Placing one hand behind her back and one beneath her knees, William swept Imi off the floor and began to climb the stairs. It felt like he was carrying nothing more than a small child, William noted worriedly; they had some serious fattening up to do.

"Dad," Imi protested feebly, feeling like a baby despite the fact she knew there was no other way she would have made it up the grand and heavy staircase.

"Oh shush," William muttered jokingly, "I've always wanted to rescue a princess, let me be a Prince charming just this once."

Imi sighed as Catherine, who was following them, laughed; the delicate sound bouncing off the walls. Pushing open her door with his shoulder, William placed Imogen down on the edge of her bed and grinned at her. "Pleasure to have been of service, m'am," he joked, giving a mock salute. Sensing he was becoming annoying, he headed for the door.

"Right I'll leave you two alone then," he murmured.

Catherine smiled approvingly at him, and as he was walking out the door, grabbed his shoulder and whispered in his ear, "There's a cup of tea waiting downstairs."

William grinned and left his girls alone.

Imogen knelt on her bed and lifted up her hand carefully to the photos which decorated her wall. Her body was absolutely still, Catherine noted from the doorway, only her index finger moving as she traced it round the edge of a photograph. A photograph in which she and Taz were both 7 and they were at Imi's party, both with little party hats perched atop their heads as they held hands and shyly smiled into the camera, little fairycakes clasped in their free hands. Imi's eyes lingered on the photo, her finger resting there before she turned slightly and stared at her favourite picture, or rather her two favourite pictures. The first showed her giving an 11-year-old Taz a piggy-back, laughing as her friend's long brown hair dangled in front of her eyes, and the second showed them lying in a heap on the floor, the picture blurred slightly as William had been laughing so hard when he took it. Finally, after many moments had passed, she moved her finger to the most recent photo she had added to the collection. It was just her and Taz in their dorm, smiling. Smiling like they hadn't got a care in the world. Smiling like they weren't going to be cruelly ripped apart in a matter of days. Only then did Imogen's finger begin to curl up as the first tears began to flow. Catherine started, not know whether to leave Imi alone or to go and comfort her.

Imogen just stayed still, her body frozen with her hand still outreached as small drops of water ran down her face. "Taz," She whispered, "What am I going to do without you?"

It was as if the words broke a trance Imi was moving under. Suddenly she let out a loud sob and covered her face with her hands as the tears fell faster and thicker, Catherine's queue to run over to the bed and wrap her arms around her daughter.

"Why?" Imi cried, her voice muffled by her fingers, "Why mum, why?"

Catherine froze, her mouth open and ready to give an answer which never came.

Imogen turned around in the loosened grip of her mother so that she was facing her, "It's my fault isn't it? If she wasn't friends with me then she'd still be alive now."

"Imi, no" Catherine gabbled hopelessly, realising she had no argument to back up her point.

"Don't say that," Imi sobbed, "Because it's a lie isn't it? If she hadn't been with me, if I hadn't taken her into the woods, then she'd be completely safe."

Pulling Imogen closer again, Catherine whispered in her ear, "But that didn't happen did it? And you're never going to know if that would be the case, so there's no point beating yourself up about it, Taz wouldn't want you to do that."

Imi closed her eyes and leant her head against her mother's chest as she processed these thoughts. "I just can't believe she's gone," she murmured, "She's gone and she's never coming back."

Catherine hugged Imi tightly, knowing that empty words weren't going to help right now.

"She died unhappy, that's the worst thing," Imi continued between tears, "Her parents had told her they were going to divorce." Catherine held her breath as she continued to hold onto Imi; letting her talk about it was probably going to be the best thing she could do right now. "The last thing I saw of her was her crying in my arms, well," Imi muttered, "The last thing I saw before she was pulled apart from me and a gun held to her head."

Catherine was surprised to hear the bitterness in Imi's voice, but it was quickly replaced by sadness. "She was my best friend mum, we were going to be best friends forever, do everything together, and now she's gone." This statement brought on a fresh bout of tears as Imi's body began to heave. Conventional crying, this was something Catherine could cope with.

"I know sweetie, I know," Catherine murmured as she ran a hand down Imi's back, very gently rocking her back and forth as she tried to calm her. Eventually the tears subsided and the only noise filling the room was the sound of Imi's unattractive sniffs. "She wouldn't want you to stay sad for her, you know," Catherine whispered, "If I learnt one thing from my practically-second-daughter, it was that she'd never want anyone to be unhappy on her part."

Imi wiped away the last traces of tears and looked up at her mum through blurry eyes, giving her a trace of a smile, "I know she wouldn't, she'd want me to live my life for both of us," Imi looked down at her damp hands and the smile vanished, "I'm just being pathetic and crying again," her voice dropped in volume, "Like I always do."

"You're not pathetic darling, everyone has to cry sometimes, it just shows you're human. Besides, if you don't cry out the sad stuff, where's the happy stuff going to go?"

Imi gave a small smile, her mother came out with the cutest stuff. "I'm not going to forget Taz, ever," she said determinedly.

Catherine took her daughter's face into her hands, and looking straight into her blue eyes said, "Of course you won't, and she'll never forget you either. She's probably looking down on you right now."

Imi nervously glanced up at her high ceiling, before snuggling once more into her mother's body. They stayed like that for a good few minutes, Catherine's head rested on top of her daughter's, before Catherine felt Imi beginning to slump, "Do you want to me to leave?" Catherine asked, "So you can get some sleep?"

"That'd be nice," Imi yawned, already snuggling down into the deep pillows that lay on her bed.

That night the nightmares began.

It was 11 O'Clock, and Catherine and William were lying in bed, her head resting on his chest as they discussed the day.

"How long do you think it's going to take? Until Imi's better" Catherine whispered, lifting her head to face her husband.

"I don't think she's ever going to be completely 'better'" William sighed, rolling over to turn off the light, "But we'll just have to wait and see."

Catherine moved over so he could reach the light, but before he did so the faint sound of a scream snuck into their room. They both froze in the large, four-poster bed. "What was…" Catherine begun, but she was cut off by the repeat of the noise, but louder this time. "Oh God, Imi!" She screamed, as they both threw back the covers and leapt out of bed.

William burst through the door into his daughter's room, to find that a security officer was already there. He turned awkwardly to the Prince, obviously unsure of what to do, and begun mumbling something about a nightmare. But William didn't hear any of it, his gaze caught by his daughter, twisting and groaning in her bed, her eyes screwed up as her legs kicked out. He felt the rush of his wife as she pushed passed him to get to Imi, and pulling himself back to where he was, William turned to the guard and signalled for him to leave. As William turned his back, he noticed his eldest son standing in the hallway, a sleepy, confused expression on his face. Mouthing something about it being OK, William pushed the door shut and moved over to join his wife, who was desperately trying to wake Imi up. He felt like he should be rushing to help, but instead his legs felt like lead and he found himself robotically moving to the bedside as he functioned in some type of a daze.

"Imogen!" Catherine screamed, trying to grab onto a flailing arm, her hand finally making contact with the sticky and damp skin. "Wake up Imogen," she screamed.

Nothing happened. Imi continued to toss and turn, mumbling under her breath. "NO," she cried out suddenly, kicking out violently with her foot, narrowly missing inflicting a blow to William's head, "NO, PLEASE, NO!"

Catherine turned round and stared at her husband, her eyes wild with panic. But William just stood there, unable to move as he watched his daughter bring her hands to her face as she uttered a terrifying whimper which seemed to shake her whole body.

"Will!"

Catherine was screaming at him now, her voice almost as loud as Imogen's. William stayed still, rooted to the spot.

Taking matters into her own hands, Catherine grabbed Imogen's arm tighter and gave it a forceful shake. "Imogen," she shouted again.

Another scream sounded in the room, but this time Imi's eyes flew open, and settling on her parents' figures, widened as she exclaimed a cry of terror. Catherine held on tightly to her arm, not letting go despite the effort Imogen was putting into getting it away.

"It's mummy," Catherine shouted, trying to get herself heard, "It's over, you're at home now, mummy's here."

"Make it stop mummy," Imogen yelled, her eyes blind with fear as she clung back onto her mother, "Make them stop."

"It's just a dream," Catherine said, quieter this time as she tried to calm her daughter down, "It was just a horrible dream, it wasn't real."

Blinking several times, Imogen shook her head "But they're going to attack me mummy," Imi screeched, although her voice was dropping in pitch as reality began to take hold again, "They killed Taz and they were hitting me and they're going to rape me if we don't stop them."

"It was a dream Imi," Catherine repeated, gathering an un-protesting Imogen into her arms, "You were dreaming but now you're awake, it's not going to happen. You're safe in your room."

Imogen stared around her room in a sort of daze, still not properly aware of what was happening, "but…" She started weakly, her voice trailing off as fatigue lulled her back to sleep.

Her own body slightly shaking at the shock of what had just happened, Catherine held Imogen tightly in her arms. She turned to William, and stared at him, her flashing green orbs shaking him out of the stupor he had fallen into. Rather sheepishly, he stumbled over to the bed and perched on the edge, laying a still, reassuring hand on his wife's quivering shoulder. He hated to think of the questions running through Catherine's mind right now, the one's she wanted to scream at him and yet was afraid to articulate in case they disturbed Imi. He knew exactly what they were because he was wondering them too: What on earth was wrong with him, why did he just stand there like an idiot and why wasn't he there when Catherine, and Imi, needed him?

After a good few minutes had passed, and Catherine was certain Imi had fallen back to sleep, albeit a fitful one, she laid her back down against the fluffy pillows and, grabbing William by the hand, pulled him from the room. Imogen's mumbles and groans were too quiet for them to hear as they crept out the door, but in just an hour's time they would be calling them back out from their beds as the nightmares once again took hold of her.


End file.
